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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25433080">they live in wonder</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/faeriestickers/pseuds/faeriestickers'>faeriestickers</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, Drinking Games, F/M, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Recreational Drug Use, Secret Santa, Slow Burn, adam and ronan: [flirts in latin], also more texting :0, antagonistic kavinsky and all of those complications w ronan and such, blue wears a suit because blue is badass., christmas tingz, coincidences &amp; fate!, did i already tag slow burn? yes. my god i mean it, fuck robert parrish. all my homies hate robert parrish, gansey: [has an identity crisis and also anxiety], hesitant romantics blue + adam, hopeless romantic gansey, oops adam gets sick and ronan's gonna take care of him heeheehee, secret romantic ronan (must reach lv 50 friendship to unlock), the mounting aches of coming to terms with crushes, the psychics Know they’re not the TRC timeline so....yep, they’re just learning how to be friends man :( i love them so much</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:41:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>148,265</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25433080</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/faeriestickers/pseuds/faeriestickers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Blue Sargent wants something more, Adam Parrish wants something concrete, Ronan Lynch wants something impossible, and Richard Gansey wants something to either live for or die for. Noah Czerny just wants them to realize that those somethings are each other.</p><p>They’ve all got their pasts and they’ve all got their secrets. Thing is, when someone wonders a little too much about you, they start to ask questions -- and when <em>you</em> wonder a little too much about someone, it gets hard to stop. A story of parents, home, histories, and all the heartache that comes with becoming known and becoming loved.</p><p>[ a college AU where everyone is inexplicably drawn to one another, but friendship is a process and they have a lot to learn about each other first. pynch + bluesey crushing/falling in love, czeng also to come; gangsey funtimes &amp; feelings. now updating weekly because of school! tags will update with content. not plot heavy. character+relationship musings, studies, and the like. ]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Henry Cheng &amp; Noah Czerny &amp; Richard Gansey III &amp; Ronan Lynch &amp; Adam Parrish &amp; Blue Sargent, Noah Czerny/Henry Cheng, Richard Gansey III/Blue Sargent, Ronan Lynch &amp; Blue Sargent, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>731</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>397</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. firefly in the daytime (part i)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>howdy! this is gonna be a college AU where i develop/build the gangsey’s friendships and just,, have fun with them falling in love with each other, y’know? i will be jamming through all kinds of funky scenarios -- first dates, kisses, i love yous, all that good stuff. and also feelings and misunderstandings and heartache. you know the drill. :-) many canon events will be transposed into this modern setting, so you can expect general consistency in character backstories!</p><p>the first four chapters have been batch uploaded. they are dedicated to the first meetings of: ronan and adam, adam and gansey, gansey and blue, then blue and ronan. ronan and gansey already know each other and blue and adam already know each other. </p><p>things will be a little front-loaded with information as i feel out their characters and histories, but after that, interactions will take up the majority of the chapters!</p><p>EDIT (7/28): noah is ready for battle! he joins the narrative in chapter 10. :-) kavinsky and henry are also written in later.</p><p>EDIT (8/17): czeng will later join the slow burn party!!!</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>ronan meets adam and thinks he’s cute. and kind of a narc. (and gansey loves ronan) (yee haw)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ronan lynch pays attention to his friends and thinks adam parrish has pretty eyes. these things are not up for debate</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The single pretty thing about the first time Ronan Lynch met Adam Parrish was Adam Parrish. Everything else was ugly because Ronan did not give a shit about rules, about libraries, and about rules in libraries.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The record needed to show: the only reason he was in a college town was because it was Gansey’s college town. Ronan had a specific gripe with the faceass students who crossed the street like cars didn’t exist. But, as infuriating as they were, he knew his situation could have been far worse than a few near run-ins every day. For example, he could have been forced to -- Jesus, Mary, <em>and</em> Joseph fucking <em>forbid</em> -- take classes with Gansey. That would have killed him. Ronan wouldn’t ever do it, no matter who tried to tell him to -- but <em>if </em>he did, it would surely kill him. </p>
<p>(No, it was not an exaggeration. Ronan Lynch was many things, but he wasn’t a liar, and hyperbole walked wildly close to lying.)</p>
<p>He was was ultimately and vehemently against institutional education, which meant that there was a cruel, sick, twisted, fucked-up irony about him not even going to school and still living amongst a bunch of student hacks. It was even more fucked that his best friend was one of those student hacks. And it was supremely fucked that he had to actively engage with other student hacks for the sake of his best friend student hack. </p>
<p>But the best friend part took superiority over everything Richard Campbell Gansey III said or did that Ronan disagreed with.</p>
<p>He knew the sentiment ran both ways, unsaid as it was.</p>
<p>So it was Gansey. It was Gansey who invited him to move into his off campus apartment after they finished high school; it was Gansey who got him to graduate in the first place; it was Gansey who thought going to the library at two in the morning for a last minute midterm cram session was a good idea; it was Gansey who forgot the textbook he’d been reading and annotating all week on the credenza on his way out of their apartment.</p>
<p>
  <em> Fuckin’ Gansey. </em>
</p>
<p>Ronan knew he was a goddamn genius, that kid. He got into some high-brow university and everything, knew how to talk his way out of any situation, could somehow right any wrong, and do a whole other ton of Gansey shit. That was why he was endlessly floored (baffled, as Gansey would say himself) by the amount of oversight he was capable of. Ronan watched him read the book at least three times over within the past seven days and it had colored flags sticking out of all sides -- it was a neon pink, yellow, orange, and green Sticky Noted nightmare. It was virtually unmissable.</p>
<p>And Gansey missed it.</p>
<p>That’s how and why Ronan ended up at the library at two in the morning: it was Gansey. Ronan treated the campus like a police precinct house and only crossed enemy lines when it was either absolutely necessary, like for graffiti. Or for Gansey. He planned to make his trip about both things.</p>
<p>Ronan thought it would be pretty straightforward -- he thought he’d walk into the library, find Gansey hunched over some notes, throw the book on whatever table he was working at, then be on his merry damn way back home, a walk during which he would declare college a scam with a Sharpie on some concrete. Unfortunately for him, though, while he found the library Gansey said he’d be at easily enough (why did this place have five libraries?), getting in was another matter. Apparently.</p>
<p>“Excuse me,” the boy that had been at the front desk called after him. Ronan considered just continuing to walk, and he almost did, but something compelled him to turn around. He paused and half-turned, looking over at the person he fully ignored on his way in.</p>
<p>His eyes -- <em> soberingly </em> blue -- were tired. Ronan blinked.</p>
<p>Jesus.</p>
<p>Jesus Christ.</p>
<p>“I just need you to swipe in,” he told Ronan, tapping a reader on the counter. Ronan’s expression soured -- seriously? Desk Boy seemed to clock this, and he explained the reason why as if Ronan was a new student. Nothing could have been worse. “Protocol when the library closes to the general public.”</p>
<p>“Not a student here,” Ronan responded, holding up Gansey’s book. He was scowling a little deeper now that he knew the cute boy was a fucking narc. “I’m dropping something off for a friend.”</p>
<p>“Sorry,” he said, because he probably wasn’t sorry, “but you’ll have to call them here or leave.” He made his not-sorry-ness very clear by looking back down at the book he was reading.</p>
<p>“It’s a book. Christ, you think I actually wanna be here?”</p>
<p>“Please lower your voice. This is a library, sir.”</p>
<p>Ronan wanted to hurl at ‘sir,’ because it sounded more like an insult than an honorific. “Right, and your solution is to call him. While he’s in a library.”</p>
<p>He didn’t look up from his book. “Have you ever been in a library before?”</p>
<p>“Not voluntarily.” Ronan picked under his middle finger nail with his thumb.</p>
<p>“People speak quietly and put their phones on vibrate.”</p>
<p>“Thrilling,” he responded flatly. Then he turned on his heel and walked further inside. “Please tell me more.”</p>
<p>“I can call security,” the desk clerk said. </p>
<p>“You <em> can</em>? Impressive. Do fuckin’ demonstrate.” Ronan waved the book beside his head on his way in, <em> mostly </em> certain that he wasn’t going to call security and <em> fully </em> indifferent either way.</p>
<p>(Soberingly blue.)</p>
<p>(Jesus.)</p>
<p>(Jesus <em> Christ</em>.)</p>
<hr/>
<p>His face genuinely lit up when Ronan arrived, but it hadn’t been for the reason Gansey allowed him to believe.</p>
<p>Gansey didn’t have the heart to tell Ronan that the book he ‘forgot’ was one he’d been reading for a different class. He left <em> Le Morte d’Arthur </em>at their apartment on purpose, actually, because his interest in the book was distracting him from the midterm he needed to study for. He was just so touched that Ronan noticed how he’d been enthralled by it, and even more touched that he took the time to bring it to him. </p>
<p>Ronan Lynch was sharp and jagged edges, sarcastic nettling, smiles that only ever roused suspicion and prickles of fear -- but above all else, he was nothing if not a loyal and attentive friend. Even though he masked the attentiveness with apathy, he was attentive. And Gansey was endlessly honored to have his favor.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank u so much for reading!!! :’) title pulled from “wonder” by honeywater and it will continue to be relevant because i love the song. might make a playlist for this too... hm. anyway love u guys u rock</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. firefly in the daytime (part ii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>adam meets gansey! (can i get a haw yee)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>yes my made up university is called warren grey. what r u gonna do about it bro</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Adam Parrish didn’t know how he felt about Richard Gansey III at first, but he <em> could </em> see how he could <em> maybe </em>learn how to like him. </p><hr/><p>It was always going to be this: Mountain View High School to Warren Grey University to Harvard’s grad school program, the John A. Paulson School of Engineering and Applied Sciences. Adam Parrish’s trajectory in life was high-arcing and pursuing it was demanding, exhausting, expensive--</p><p>And he’d come so far that nothing in the world could convince him to stop now. Failure was not an option, quitting was not an option, anything that wasn’t full success was not an option. His victory would not be Pyrrhic. </p><p>His victory would <em> not </em>be Pyrrhic.</p><p>That’s what Adam told himself every time exam season rolled back around, because every time exam season rolled back around, nothing mattered more than top marks. Midterms and finals were shortened shifts at the mechanic shop and longer ones at the library, since working the library front desk doubled as his study time. His life for the past two years had been too much cheap coffee, fifty-cent instant ramen, not enough sleep, perfect test scores, back-to-back office hours -- and it was by no means the glorious college experience other people dreamed of, but other people weren’t Adam Parrish. </p><p>Other people didn’t have stakes as high as Adam Parrish did.</p><p>Now a third-year at Warren, Adam was well adjusted to his routine. He went to class, he went to work at the garage, he took the night shift at the library, he slept -- repeat, with studying during and between. Really, it was a lot like high school, only he didn’t spend a lot of time remembering what it was like to be a student back in sleepy Henrietta. College was a lot more work, especially with his plans to attend graduate school, but on the rare occasion that Adam cut himself some slack, he reminded himself of how far he’d come. Then, of course, he started to think about how much further he wanted -- needed -- to go. All things considered, though?</p><p>Life was better. Life was <em> good. </em>Adam’s third midterm was in three days and he still had a ton of work to do, but life was good.</p><p>He’d been on his way back from class when he met Gansey. </p><p>Adam’s decision to stop riding his bike when he saw the hood of a ‘93 Camaro popped open on the side of the road was made on a whim. He deeply valued what little time he had between obligations and responsibilities, so the fact that he chose to spend some of it on some person and the car he’s seen around town had been a gamble. He hoped the driver deserved it. (He hoped he wouldn’t regret it.)</p><p>“Hey,” he said, but he suddenly felt incredibly small and -- yep, already regretted his choice to stop. His bike’s kickstand was rusted to hell and back and, to help the driver, he had to put it down against the curb. It felt pitiful to do in front of someone who drove a car like that, but Adam followed through -- it would be more pitiful if he just biked off. “Do you need a hand?”</p><p>The person stooped over the engine turned and Adam--</p><p>Well. Adam’s feelings weren’t reflected by his expression, but he was feeling something towards the Camaro owner’s salmon polo shirt, crisp chinos, and gleaming watch. It was envy, probably, because the person in front of him looked like he came from everything Adam himself didn’t.</p><p>Money.</p><p>“Oh, I’d hate to inconvenience you,” he said, hands coming together in front of him, “but if you could spare a moment, I’d owe you a great debt.”</p><p>Something unsavory flared in Adam’s chest at the idea of a debt needing to be paid, even to him. Still, he nodded, and he stepped up to the hood of the car and began to troubleshoot. This was what Adam was good at: problems that could be identified, problems that had definite solutions. Things that he <em> knew </em>he was capable of fixing. “What happened?”</p><p>“A godawful squealing began to come from here. Under the hood.” He had added ‘under the hood’ in a way that sounded like he was trying to sound like he had some sort of idea of what was happening. “I suppose the car has gained sentience and is decidedly living up to its name.”</p><p>Adam’s fingertips were already smudged black from trying to diagnose the issue. He wasn’t in the market for smalltalk, but he was a good multitasker. “Its name being?”</p><p>“The Pig.” He sounded endeared.</p><p>Adam lifted his brows but didn’t look away from the engine. “Quite a name.”</p><p>“Indeed. And if I may ask yours?”</p><p>“Adam.”</p><p>“Gansey,” Gansey responded, unprompted and jovial and amicable. He was a people-person, Adam could tell by the way he spoke and by his posture. “Thank you for stopping, Adam.”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>Within the few minutes they spent exchanging pleasantries, Adam had successfully found the issue and remedied it. He told this to Gansey and Gansey looked impressed, but Adam didn’t need someone like Gansey to be impressed with him. “Already? Incredible,” he marvelled.</p><p>“It was just a loose drive belt,” Adam said, pointing it out to him. “I’ve set it back onto the pulleys, but I suggest that you get it replaced altogether as soon as you can. If it breaks and you keep driving it, you’ll only have more problems.” Not that Gansey would have any issues paying for them, he assumed. Really, Adam guessed that whoever did the work on the Pig was probably severely overcharging because Gansey looked like the kind of person you could overcharge. He did not say this. Instead, he went about shutting the hood.</p><p>“You’re a godsend.” Gansey grinned, easy and All-American. “Thank you, again.”</p><p>“Don’t mention it,” he said, careful not to wipe his hands down on his pants. They weren’t his grease-stained work jeans and Adam intentionally kept them as immaculate as possible for when he attended class.</p><p>“I have to insist otherwise,” Gansey countered politely, and then he patted down his pockets, and Adam’s stomach lurched when he came up with his wallet. It looked like a polished leather thing, rife with bills that could have probably changed Adam’s life, once upon a time. But he had changed his own life. “It only feels right to compensate you for--“</p><p>No. No, no, no.</p><p>“No.” Adam’s interjection was stern and it made Gansey’s face fall. “Drive safely.”</p><p><em> Compensate him. </em> What, because Adam was riding a bike, but he knew a simple thing about cars? Did that make Gansey assume he needed the money? God, the nerve. Adam promptly turned back to his bike. He picked it up, threw his leg over the seat, then wished a dumbfounded Gansey a good day before riding off and not looking back.</p><p>He had work to do, anyway.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>[adam voice a la blue in the raven boys] i am NOT a prostitute</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. firefly in the daytime (part iii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>when i tagged this as hopeless romantic gansey i meant it. instant crush on blue sargent. (can i get a big mood) (anyway gansey meets blue and also still really digs medieval kings. u know what it do)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time Richard Gansey met Blue Sargent was in a coffee shop that he happened upon during one of his walks. </p>
<hr/><p>There always seemed to be more for him to discover -- dusty bookstores with titles he’s never encountered, take-out places that he thought Ronan would like (even if he didn’t openly admit it), establishments of the sort. His latest discovery was a quaint café with rather unholy hours that stretched well into the night. In other words: perfect for him.</p><p>Gansey had grown fond of the place quickly. It was a superb location for reading, which was a damn good thing, given how reading-intensive his Arthurian Romances class was -- not that he minded in the slightest. Gansey was fully and happily invested in Sir Thomas Malory’s <em> Le Morte d’Arthur</em>, and he hadn’t put it down for anything until--</p><p>“Can I sit here?”</p><p>He looked up from his secondhand book. It was a weathered thing, a dog-eared thing, a sticky-noted thing -- and it had a spine so broken that it needed a chiropractor. He fumbled with his pen as he beheld the source of the request: a young woman with a choppy forest of hair, a shirt shredded in a way that would make his mother tip up her nose, and a gravely tired expression. She was a lot to take in, but at once Gansey found himself charmed by her tiny dessert fork earrings and her chunky soda can tab necklace. An assortment of plastic barrettes stuck out from her dark hair in shocks of color and--oh. Oh, her expression promptly soured. Oh, dear.</p><p>Gansey grimaced, having realized how his silence could have been interpreted. </p><p>“I--”</p><p>“Look, if you’re going to be weird, just say no.”</p><p>She already put her coffee down on his table when she asked, and now she was starting to pick it up again. Gansey, ever the gentleman and infinitely hopeful that he might recover from his rudeness, quickly swept a hand out towards the open seat across from him. </p><p>“No, no. I mean, yes -- ah. Terribly sorry. I <em> mean</em>, please, by all means.”</p><p>...She gave him an odd sort of look before nodding shortly, and it wasn’t exactly a <em> thank you, </em> but Gansey supposed that it was meant to be one. He nodded back. It wasn’t exactly a <em> you’re welcome</em>, but he meant for it to be one.</p><p>As she began to set up shop (a laptop, a notebook, a pencil, wired earbuds), he couldn’t help but notice the amount of open seats around them. All those empty tables and this mystery of a person had picked his table. </p><p>Gansey’s heart hummed with the implications. </p><p>Her presence and presentation screamed <em> curious </em> and his curiosity screamed <em> answers, please, </em>and so his brain sifted through his vocabulary. He just needed to piece together something to say. Something to start the conversation. Something, something, anything. He absently fiddled with a furled-up corner of a cerulean blue sticky note that was tucked between the pages of his book. </p><p>“I apologize for gawking,” Gansey eventually managed. The sentiment was paired with a sheepish smile. “That hadn’t been my intention. Being weird, that is.”</p><p>She looked up at him, squinted, and kept typing. “Right.” </p><p>Her response was delayed by a few seconds, making it abundantly clear that she wasn’t interested in talking.</p><p>Ah. So he’d misread her, then. </p><p><em> Just as well, </em>he thought, returning to his book and resolving not to bother her again. Gansey leaned back in his seat, chastened by her indifference. His heart ceased its humming. </p><p>Mostly.</p><p>The problem with his plan was this: his concentration had been effectively shattered and he could not stop glancing up from his book at her. Her pen was green, her coffee cup read <em> Jane. </em> Jane seemed fully enthralled with hacking away at her laptop -- it was a rather clunky looking thing with a loud ventilation fan, making it a far cry from the sleek, flatter models people usually toted around. And while he couldn’t read her, he <em> could </em> read the stickers plastered across her laptop: <em> SAVE THE TREES </em> and <em> ALL COPS ARE BASTARDS </em> and <em> BAN SINGLE-USE PLASTIC. </em> The one that made him raise his eyebrows was <em> EAT THE RICH</em>. </p><p>Perhaps his name and his socioeconomic status were just Sharpied across his forehead; perhaps that’s what had put her off. That was fair. That was fine.</p><p>Newly impelled, Gansey returned to his book.</p><p><em> The Noble Tale of Sir Launcelot du Lac. </em> Lancelot was a standup fellow, unparalleled in his knighthood, though Gansey couldn’t say he was much of a fan. Lancelot’s betrayal of King Arthur vis-à-vis romancing Queen Guinevere -- Jesus, it was hardly a noble thing, wasn’t it? Pentecostal Oath be damned, Arthur surely didn’t mean for his knights to aid damsels in <em> everything. </em>But that was the intended paradox, the true difficulty of courtly love, he presumed. Gansey pressed his thumb to his mouth and furrowed his brow as he flipped page after page. He devoured the material and glady re-lost himself in the print, table companion forgotten.</p><p>Well -- for a while, at least.</p><p>When Jane began to gather up her belongings, Gansey reflexively checked his watch, then glanced out the windows. It had grown late without him noticing and he was due to meet Ronan for dinner in less than an hour, but Gansey wasn’t keen on following her out of the shop, lest he get deemed both weird <em> and </em>creepy. He settled on waiting for her to leave first. She put her laptop and book into her bag, stooped under the table to unplug her charger--</p><p>
  <em> Oh.  </em>
</p><p>A flush crawled up the back of his neck when Gansey realized that Jane only asked to sit with him because there was a charging port beside his table. He’d just been foolish enough to think otherwise.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>AHAHA he thinks her name is jane. golden</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. firefly in the daytime (part iv)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>blue meets ronan and i fucking love blue and ronan’s friendship. it will be a beautiful thing i promise</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Blue Sargent met Ronan Lynch, Blue was in a tree and Ronan was hanging out with a bird. This was the origin story of Tree Girl and Raven Boy.</p><hr/><p>The sycamore tree on the edge of campus was Blue’s newest favorite tree. Its sprawling canopy of leaves and massive branches made it ideal for climbing -- but more importantly, if she closed her eyes and tuned out the sound of the town around her, she could imagine that she was back home. She could imagine that her back was pressed up against the beech tree in her backyard, imagine that her family was only a few yards away, and remind herself that she carried her home in her heart, always. Homesickness was easily squashed by the rustle of leaves in her ears.</p><p>For Blue Sargent, being at college was like training for the day she took off and travelled the world.</p><p>Adjusting to being away from her home in Henrietta, Virginia had been just as hard and just as easy as she anticipated. After graduating from Mountain View high, Blue spent another two years living at home and taking classes at their local community college. It was the most financially sensible thing to do, and though she experienced bitter heartache towards the idea of almost everybody from her graduating class getting to leave, Blue knew her time would come eventually.</p><p>It came quickly, actually.</p><p>Blue worked herself into the ground during those two years, just to get into stupidly-competitive Warren Grey with its ridiculous tuition and just-as-stupidly-competitive financial aid. She worked overtime at Nino’s, took on even more odd jobs for the cash, signed up for as many GE classes as she possibly could so that, when it came time to transfer, she could focus on <em>just </em>ecology. Blue beefed up her application with work experience and volunteer experience and solid grades to compensate for her slightly-less-solid marks from high school, polished her personal statements ‘til they sparkled, saved pennies like her life depended on it. And it did -- her future did, at least. Now that she was actually a student at Warren, it was all worth it.</p><p>She hoped -- desperately, desperately hoped. Blue saved as much as she could by living at home and starting with a JC, but <em> still.</em> Warren was a fancy rich kid school, and Blue Sargent was not a fancy rich kid. While she got a decent amount of financial aid, it still hadn’t been quite enough.</p><p>At the very least, she was thankful that she was offered work-study. Blue was kind to herself, though, and had decided not to work during her first semester so she could just do the study part. That meant that a good amount of her free time was spent scoping out study spots and picking favorite trees and learning, learning, learning. </p><p>Last week, she found the sycamore, and the tree had become her anchor, of sorts. It was her new favorite place to read, her new favorite place to have lunch, her new favorite place to nap. Also, she was almost sure that the nest a few branches higher up belonged to the group of ravens that partially subsided on park trash and shitty people’s litter. Blue’s done the Googling -- she read that some broods lingered near their nests, even after they grew up.</p><p>(<em>Good for them</em>, she thought, though she envied their wings and their freedom of choice.)</p><p>That day, she’d been reading <em>The Ecology of Trees in the Tropical Rainforest. </em>Warren’s ecology program had a study abroad opportunity that sent students to study in the Amazon, and since she discovered it her junior year of high school, she’s dreamed of the chance ever since. The book was part of a prereq for the trip and, with her midterm coming up, she was determined to know the material front and back. Studying trees in a tree so that she could study trees -- it was the dream.</p><p>The thing that had pulled her out of that dream, however, was a sharp, ear-splitting whistle. Startled by the sound, Blue snapped her gaze towards the source of it.</p><p>A boy -- head to toe in black -- holding out his arm--</p><p>So a <em> big-ass raven </em> could fly down and <em> land on it. </em></p><p>Blue blinked away her shock as he casually began to walk away. People did some weird things at college, but this was a different kind of weird.</p><p>“Hey! I’m pretty sure keeping ravens as pets is illegal,” she sputtered, causing the boy to turn and scowl. Blue, however, was undeterred. The image of some dude with a shaved head and tattoos peeking out from his shirt <em> and </em>a raven on his arm might have intimidated anybody else, but Blue Sargent wasn’t phased in the slightest. Phooey to this Raven Boy.</p><p>“And I’m pretty sure you should lean forward. Or back.” He clicked his tongue, the raven scooted up to his shoulder, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Your choice, but I’m also pretty sure I’d like to watch.”</p><p>Oh-hoh, okay. Telling her to fall out of a tree, real slick like? Then double phooey to this Raven Boy.</p><p>Blue narrowed her eyes. She closed her book. “Where are you taking it?”</p><p>“Why do you fuckin’ care?”</p><p>“Because it’s a wild bird and you’ve clearly been--“ She waved her hand in a vague gesture. “--grooming it.”</p><p>“Jesus, do you hear yourself? Grooming her?”</p><p>Blue paused. “Her?”</p><p>The boy stared at her for another moment, then turned on his heel to keep walking.</p><p>“Well, hey! What’s her name?” She asked, craning her neck around the trunk of her tree.</p><p>“Chainsaw,” he called back, after a moment.</p><p>And after another moment, Blue smiled.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>if u are reading this it means you read through all four of the introduction prologue thingies i posted and i love you. thank u. you’re a gift. </p><p>i don’t have plans for noah and henry just yet but i do want them to get involved! in general there will be lots of friendship and pining and the pain of figuring out crushes and unpacking baggage and everyone just growing 2 love each other so much. </p><p>also, if you like my writing, i will happily accept requests both for this story and one shots. let me know what ur itching for! </p><p>thank you again for reading :-) comments and kudos mean the world to me!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. free me from my prison cell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>adam and gansey pt 2 (a la coffee shop) and ronan and blue pt 2 (they both got arrested) (deets l8r hehe) and... they all end up in the same room for the first time!!!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Adam didn’t normally buy coffee from cafés. Usually, he made his own at his apartment and brought it with him in a thermos, but he had just wrapped up his third midterm, miraculously had the rest of the afternoon and evening free due to a scheduling mishap at the library, and really -- he deserved to splurge on a two dollar and forty nine cent coffee. For the first time in weeks, it felt like he could take a full and unburdened breath. </p><p>It smelled like roasted coffee beans (not instant grounds) and felt like the warm pride of an exam made easy by all of his effort.</p><p>Adam stepped forward to the counter. When the barista on register earnestly, anxiously asked him for a moment, he naturally obliged with a kind nod and something of a smile. He knew the struggle of being a working student, and though he himself never ended up in food service, he could naturally empathize. In his head, he rehearsed his order and tried to calculate how much he could leave as a tip and--</p><p>“Adam?”</p><p>He righted his lax posture. Adam always went alert when someone called his name, but when he turned around, he found his reason to stay squared.</p><p>“Gansey.” A thousand coffee shops around their college campus and they both ended up in this one. It had been several days since he met Gansey on the side of the road, and though they hadn’t seen each other since, it was difficult to forget a person like him and a car like his. “How’s the Pig?”</p><hr/><p>Gansey was honored that Adam remembered him <em> and </em>the Pig, but he still couldn’t wrap his head around why he’d taken off so abruptly. He did, however, feel like he had a better understanding of Adam’s situation when -- in that same stern tone -- he refused to let Gansey pay for his plain black coffee.</p><p><em> You can just tip them extra, </em> Adam said as he tucked two bills and some change into the jar. He said it as if Gansey hadn’t already planned on doing so, but Adam had no way of knowing that, so he took no offense.</p><p>Adam looked unsure when Gansey invited him to sit for a moment while they waited for their orders. He struck Gansey (twice) as a person who didn’t allow himself to be pushed in a direction other than his own, so when Adam agreed, Gansey was rightly pleased about him claiming a two-person table near the pick-up counter. </p><p>Gansey liked Adam. Yes, already. He stopped to help him, he was kind about it -- and their first and previous interaction left Gansey wondering about him. He looked awfully familiar, yet for the life of him, Gansey couldn’t place where he knew Adam from.</p><p>“So, then. Are you a student at Warren?” Gansey steepled his fingers, careful not to assume anything. Unfortunately, his attempt to be mindful seemed to be unsuccessful, based on how Adam briefly pinched his eyebrows.</p><p>Damn it all.</p><p>“I am,” he confirmed, “Mechanical engineering. And yourself?”</p><p>“Business,” Gansey responded. “With a tentative lean into a medieval studies minor.”</p><p>Adam tipped his head. “A bit of a jump there.”</p><p>“Practicality versus passion,” he chuckled and waved it off. A warmth crawled over the back of his neck, though, because Adam was correct: there <em> was </em>a bit of a jump there. More than a jump, even -- there was a leap, a chasm, a gaping maw. He knew it, his parents knew it, his academic advisors for both the School of Business and Letters and Sciences department knew it.</p><p>Gansey resented which area he was majoring in and which area he was minoring in, but not enough to know what to do about it.</p><p>“Right.” </p><p>Adam’s response was flat.</p><p>Gansey dropped his eyes for one measly second of allotted uncertainty. After that, he pressed his palms to the table and stepped back into himself. He considered asking Adam about his interest in mechanical engineering with the hopes of being able to steer the conversation towards cars, something that might get him a little more invested. Except he feared not having an honest answer, should Adam return the question.</p><p>An easier one, then.</p><p>“How long have you been studying here?”</p><p>“This makes my third year.”</p><p>“Likewise. I’m surprised we’ve yet to cross paths--“</p><p>“Adam,” a barista called out, and seconds after, “Gansey.” Both of them looked up and Gansey followed Adam to the counter to claim their drinks. They moved exceptionally quickly, and though it was commendable, Gansey was disappointed that their conversation was being cut short. </p><p>He tried again, because where his practicality failed, Gansey had passion.</p><p>“I’ve no other obligations for the day,” Gansey said. “And so I was curious. Might you happen to have any interest in Welsh kings, Adam?”</p><hr/><p>Alright. </p><p>
  <em> So.</em>
</p><p>In Ronan’s defense, Kavinsky started the race. And Kavinsky was a punkass bitch who paid off the local cops. And the local cops were fucking scum for accepting his money (and in general). In summary: all cops were bastards, Joseph Kavinsky was also a bastard, and Ronan Lynch had been set up for an arrest as a prank because Joseph Bastard Shithead Punkass Kavinsky had nothing better to do with his time. </p><p>Also, Ronan was currently being escorted into a holding cell.</p><p>Also-also, there was one other person already inside, and it was that girl that openly criticized him from a tree. He’d give Kavinsky hell as soon as he was out, but her presence was a little more current.</p><p>Ronan’s evening just kept evolving. </p><p>“Son of a bitch,” he whistled, leaning back against the door that was slammed and locked behind him. (Fuckers.) “What, did snitching finally backfire?”</p><p>Tree Girl scoffed and folded her arms. “Don’t even. This country’s law enforcement system is broken beyond repair and needs to be defunded, if not totally disbanded. I care about <em> birds, </em>not pigs.” She said ‘pigs’ with a lot more chest and she turned towards the barred windows of the holding cell so her voice would project -- two things that made Ronan consider her a second time. This time, he noticed the shreds in her leggings, her chunky combat boots, her fucked-up fingerless gloves. Also, she <em> was </em>in police custody with him. Those things got her some points.</p><p>Fine, so maybe Tree Girl wasn’t that bad. Even though she talked a lot and was loud and kind of fucking annoying.</p><p>Ronan didn’t make a habit out of giving a shit about other people or their business, seeing as not caring was a really good way of keeping noses out of <em>his </em>business. But he was also thrumming with adrenaline leftover from not racing and he was not above slandering cops where they could hear him -- and he wanted to know what the fuck she did, so...</p><p>“Which means you’re here because?”</p><p>“I got into an -- argument,” she breezily responded. </p><p>He rolled his eyes. “So a fight?”</p><p>“An <em> argument.”</em></p><p>“Fight.”</p><p>“Argument!”</p><p>“That’s really just a nicer way to say it was a fight.”</p><p>“No, it is not, because it was an argu--gah, shut up. You’re here too, you know.”</p><p>“Yeah, for street racing.” Ronan walked over to her bench and sat across from her. “Which is infinitely fucking cooler than an <em> argument.” </em></p><p>“I said it was an argument, not a fi--“</p><p>She caught herself and cleared her throat; Ronan raised a brow and smiled a crooked shiteater’s grin. The result: she bristled.</p><p>“Street racing is illegal.” It was a feeble response at best and Ronan delighted in every syllable of it.</p><p>“No fucking way, really?” Ronan deadpanned.</p><p>“Oh, shove it, asshole,” she hissed. “This is not cool.”</p><p>“Don’t be fucking dramatic. You’ll be here for an hour tops and then you can get back to sitting in trees, weird-ass.”</p><p>“Except I’ve been here for <em> two hours </em> because this whole place is full of <em> white men </em> with a <em> shameful </em> profession who are <em> awful </em>at processing paperwork in a timely manner.”</p><p>He scowled. She was right and he had been arrested enough times to know so, but he’s never had to wait that long -- usually someone swooped in and pulled him out within the hour. He didn’t expect things to go any differently that time either. “The fuck? Did you use your phone call to send money to PETA?”</p><p>“Absolutely not!” She sounded genuinely offended and Ronan didn’t know if it was funny or sad. “PETA is a terrible organization! God, I would never give them a cent. Do you know how--“</p><p>“No, and I’d rather continue to not know,” he interrupted.</p><p>“Jerk.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“Wow, you are awful.”</p><p>“Thank you,” he repeated.</p><p>“Shithead.”</p><p>“Smartass.”</p><p>“Edgelord.”</p><p>“Maggot pixie drab girl.”</p><p>Tree Girl drew her shoulders up real high and exhaled a breath in a huff that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.</p><p>“Blue,” she said, and Ronan cast her a sidelong glance.</p><p>“Okay? That’s a shitty insult. Do you want me to say a color back?”</p><p>“No, you dick.” She flipped him off. “That’s my <em> name.</em>” <em> What kind of dumbass name is Blue? </em> He thought, lip curled.</p><p>“What kind of dumbass name is Blue?” He said, lip curled.</p><p>“It’s mine! Now are you going to tell me yours or should I call you Chainsaw’s Human?”</p><p>“Pass.”</p><p>“Hey!” She leapt to her feet. Seeing as she was five foot nothing, Ronan looked on with utter disinterest while she jabbed her finger in his direction. “I’ll have you know, I don’t appreciate--“</p><p>And then she was cut off.</p><p>“Ronan!”</p><p>Both of them looked across the bullpen at the source of the voice. Ronan already knew who it was, given who he had used his call to contact and how it was dripping with disappointment, but he wasn’t expecting--</p><p>Something distasteful stuttered in his chest when he saw the boy from the library again.</p><p>Blue staggered to the window. “Adam?”</p><p>So that was Blue Eyes’ name: <em>Adam.</em> And apparently he knew Gansey, if how they arrived together was any indication. It was just his goddamn luck that the second time they met happened while he was in a holding cell. Adam’s eyes were still <em>soberingly</em>--</p><p>“Blue?”</p><p>“Jane?”</p><p>(Gansey knew her, too? What the hell?)</p><p>“Who the fuck is Jane?” Ronan wrinkled his nose. “You. Your name is fuckin’ Jane?”</p><p>“No! I just told you, it’s <em> Blue.</em>” Exasperated, she held her hands out at Ronan, then pivoted to point at Gansey. “What I want to know is why you think my name is… Wait.” She snapped a couple of times. “No, hey, you’re the richie rich from the coffee shop.”</p><p>“The goddamn richie rich!” Ronan echoed, grinning now. Even Adam seemed to think it was funny, but he hadn’t said a word after ‘Blue.’ There was only a ghost of a smile on his face.</p><p>“Ronan, please,” Gansey withered, looking flustered. “I--“</p><p>Ronan watched as Gansey sighed, then smoothed himself out. Only a trained eye could notice the minuscule shift in his presence: he righted his posture to stand impossibly taller, his expression took on a tint of authority, he just -- changed. Every so slightly, he changed.</p><p>And the coppers ate that shit right the <em> fuck </em> up.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It Begineth: The Friendshippening.......</p><p>(thank u guys for your support :-) &lt;3 so much love!! ur comments/kudos mean everything to me! please let me know ur thoughts. yes this is me begging. love u bros.)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. just as young as we are</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>that first time when u hang out with people and you think you like them a lot but also you don’t know each other so ur a little reserved......</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>All Blue did was stand up for herself when some scumbag started catcalling her -- and apparently, to the onlookers, a young woman making a sleazy grown man cry for commenting on her body was verbal assault. But her response was the verbal assault, not <em> his </em> instigating. Oh, it was bullshit and she made sure the cops knew she thought so. Things inevitably escalated and they only got worse when they decided to frisk her, because when she got patted down, they found the pink switchblade her mom’s boyfriend gave to her in her pocket. </p><p>And somehow, getting arrested and having her knife confiscated wasn’t the climax of her evening.</p><p>Blue had initially been very much opposed to being let out alongside Ronan. She had a strong suspicion that the coffee shop boy had something to do with it -- his hopeful expression from over the policeman’s shoulder was telling. As such, it had ultimately been Adam’s face that convinced her to leave with them.</p><p>Adam. Adam, Adam, Adam. How many years had it been since she’d seen him last? They broke up the summer before senior year, stopped talking regularly right before college application season, and fell out of touch entirely right before they graduated. Then one -- two -- three -- almost four years later, she was reunited with her ex-boyfriend Adam Parrish in the company of Raven Boy From Holding and Richie Rich From the Coffee Shop.</p><p>It was one hell of a reunion and Blue didn’t know what to think, what to say. There wasn’t much she wanted to talk about while they were around others, so most of her thoughts were tabled.</p><p>The four of them were gathered outside, standing between the richie rich’s car and the raven boy’s newly released one. Raven Boy went by Ronan, Richie Rich went by Gansey, Gansey’s car went by ‘the Pig,’ -- and given her night, she found the nickname a little unfavorable. Their strange four-pointed constellation was this: Blue standing next to Adam, Adam next to Gansey, Gansey next to Ronan, Ronan on the other side of Blue. It was also this: Blue with her hands on her hips, Adam with his hands in his pockets, Gansey with his thumb pressed to his mouth, and Ronan with his arms crossed. In the low light of the parking lot lamps, Blue could only make out so much of their features.</p><p>“Evidently,” Gansey started, fishing his keys out of his pocket, “it seems we’re all a bit tangled.” His wording made it sound like a bad thing, but his tone was bright and made it clear that he thought it was a good thing. He held up his keys and gestured towards his car. “I, for one, am incredibly interested in how this is so. My proposition is thus: we get dinner as a group and we sort ourselves out?” </p><p>Blue looked over at Adam and it turned out that he had the same thought -- the two of them exchanged glances as if there hadn’t been a day that they haven’t spoken. Just like old times, they communicated in silence. Blue wasn’t entirely surprised, given the amicable end of their romantic relationship, though she <em> did </em>find herself regretting how they drifted afterwards. But there wasn’t much time for her to contemplate where they went wrong just yet.</p><p><em> How much do you know this guy? </em>Blue’s raised eyebrow said.</p><p><em> I don’t, </em> Adam’s blink responded. <em> What do you think? </em></p><p>
  <em> It couldn’t hurt. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Could it? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Well... </em>
</p><p>“Jesus God, you fucking silent weirdos,” Ronan muttered. He threw open his car door and dropped into the driver’s seat, though he didn’t close the door. “Eyefuck each other in private, would you?”</p><p>He sounded oddly bitter, she could hear it.</p><p><em> Wow, </em>Blue’s face said.</p><p><em> Uh huh, </em>Adam’s echoed.</p><p>Ronan’s shitheadery aside, Blue pursed her lips. She looked between the three of them and wondered how someone like Ronan knew someone like Gansey, how someone like Adam knew someone like Gansey, how Adam knew Ronan -- and then she realized that those were more or less the same questions Gansey was probably thinking.</p><p>Her mother would frown at the idea of her going out to dinner with some people she met at a police station, but Maura Sargent did know Adam Parrish, so… That made it a little better. Blue sighed. This was college, right? Impulsive decisions, leaps of faith, things like that. She didn’t have many opportunities like this back at her JC in Henrietta and she feared how many “what if” statements she’d end up with if she turned away this one.</p><p>“If it’s not anywhere fancy, I’ll go if you do,” she finally said to Adam. He seemed to consider it, but for a second, he looked like he was going to decline. Blue couldn’t say why that disappointed her.</p><p>“Okay,” he conceded, turning to Gansey. “I’ll ride with you.”</p><p>“Excelsior!” Gansey clapped his hands and beamed. For someone who just talked two people out of police holding, he looked awfully chipper. Then again, he was wearing a mint green polo. All he needed was a tennis sweater tied around his neck, a golf club, and a white visor to complete the untouchable upper class socialite image. </p><p>“And you’re driving me.” She told this to -- not asked -- Ronan, who just gave her the finger and sneered.</p><p>“I don’t have a car seat, kid.”</p><p>“You sure do have the bad attitude of one, though.”</p><p>“And you have the shoe size of one.”</p><p>Despite their jabs, the passenger door was still unlocked when she walked around the hood and tried the handle.</p><hr/><p>Gansey picked the restaurant. Her conditions were no place ‘fancy,’ sure, but she didn’t expect him to pick somewhere she’s already been. It was a local and popular burger joint: greasy, neon-lighted, checker-tiled, homey, affordable. The red vinyl seats were weathered and welcoming when they slipped into their booth; Blue next to Ronan, across from Adam and Gansey.</p><p>It was hard to fully register where she was and who she was with and what was happening, but something about it made Blue’s heart feel a good kind of funny and she didn’t want to let the feeling escape her. She wanted to know what Adam had been up to, she wanted to know how Ronan befriended Chainsaw. Questions had been steeping in her brain since she got into the car with Ronan.</p><p>“Right, then.” Gansey was once again the one earnestly initiating conversation. He hadn’t even looked over his menu, meaning he was either a regular patron or eager to talk or possibly just both. “Ronan and I have been friends since our high school days, Adam had been kind enough to give me assistance with the Pig earlier this week, and I encountered Jane at a coffee shop.”</p><p>She wrinkled her nose. “Blue.”</p><p>“Blue,” Gansey echoed, apologetic.</p><p>“Jane?” Adam had lifted a brow at her.</p><p>“Mistake at the coffee shop,” she explained. “Someone took my drink, so I just took theirs. It said ‘Jane’ and he assumed it was my name, I guess.”</p><p>It was not that Blue was trying to be cold or rude towards Gansey -- he seemed like a perfectly nice boy. Although that was likely why she was holding herself at a distance. He was too perfect, too nice. Adam, she went back with; Ronan, she caught with a raven and also he was an asshole. Gansey? She didn’t know a thing, other than that he looked like a poster boy for a country club. Blue felt within her rights to be aloof.</p><p>(Of course, the fact that he had read her coffee cup and put a name to her face was… Something. She didn’t know if she was supposed to be flattered by it. It <em> was </em> a flattering thing, wasn’t it? To be noticed and remembered like that?)</p><p>She looked up at Gansey. Now he was looking down at his menu.</p><p>“Blue and I went to high school together, too,” Adam said, surprising her. He’d been more quiet than Ronan since they all ended up together. She nodded in careful affirmation, not providing any more details. “It’s been years since we’ve talked last.”</p><p>Blue tipped her head. His voice sounded different.</p><p>“I transferred to Warren this year. Took two years at HJC.”</p><p>He smiled at her, honest and proud. “Nice, Blue.”</p><p>“You’re here, too?” It was a question for Adam, only she remembered that it wasn’t just them, so she looked at Ronan and Gansey as well. “All of you?”</p><p>“Hell no,” Ronan scoffed, at the same time Gansey said “Indeed.”</p><p>It made her snort, for some reason. She should have known.</p><p>“We <em> are </em> flatmates, though,” Gansey continued, giving Ronan a look<em>. </em>He huffed through his nostrils in response. “I suppose Adam and Ronan are the only ones who require a proper introduction now.”</p><p>“Actually, he stopped by the library I work at a week ago,” Adam answered for Ronan, “to drop a book off for a friend. You, I’m assuming?”</p><p>“Laumonier Stacks? That must be where I’ve met you before. I knew you looked familiar.” Gansey looked pleased that they'd already met too, and it was such a small thing, but Blue felt similarly. What were the odds?</p><p>“Fun coincidence,” she mused.</p><p>“I don’t believe in coincidences,” Gansey replied, firmly and confidently. It surprised her.</p><p>(Maybe she was just aching for more friends, seeing as she was surprisingly still lacking in that area of the college experience. Maybe she was just as hopeful that he was that this would turn into something. Maybe she wanted coincidences to be not so coincidental, too.)</p><p>Adam nodded. “I do work at Laumonier. He was very kind about the whole thing.”</p><p>“Oh, fuck off, Parrish,” Ronan scoffed, making Blue laugh a lone, dry ‘hah.’ </p><p>“So that means he was a douchebag, right?”</p><p>“Fuck off too, maggot.”</p><p>Gansey smiled. “I apologize for any and all of Ronan Lynch’s douchebaggery, as it were.”</p><p>“You especially fuck off, Dick.”</p><p>The whole thing made her smirk and Gansey chuckle while Adam remained thoroughly unimpressed -- she checked. Hopeful that they might be able to talk about things when they caught up alone, Blue put down her menu and nudged Adam’s foot with hers. “Hey, split with me?”</p><p>He agreed.</p><hr/><p>Gansey believed it to be kismet of the highest degree. </p><p>In the span of a week, two sets of high school friends became interlaced in every direction -- not to mention how one pair was long-lost and now reconnecting. He delighted in Adam and Blue’s rekindled friendship and was elated that they had agreed to dinner, for of everyone he’d interacted with in the past month (and there were many faces!), they were the two most memorable. The two he wondered about most.</p><p>And, as designed by the universe, they found each other again. </p><p>It was a situation only made better by how Ronan seemed to have a solid (if not confusing) rapport with one Blue Sargent. Gansey couldn’t speak on his relationship with Adam, though, given the absence of any exchanges between them. It made him wonder just what had happened between them at the library -- but as much as he wanted to know, he had enough sense not to ask.</p><p>Blue and Adam had split a plate and she was idly dunking a french fry into a little cup of ranch as she talked about what she was studying. Ronan made a snide comment and she snappily retorted, he bit back, she wittily parried -- et cetera, until he or Adam spoke up and rerouted their conversation. That was how their discussions had gone since they sat down and, though there were moments where Gansey couldn’t get a good read on Ronan and Blue’s bickering, the majority of it seemed to be in good humor.</p><p>Probably.</p><p>He hoped.</p><p>Very much.</p><p>Good God, it was difficult to tell.</p><p>The needling aside, the evening had been going smoothly and Gansey felt a warm glow in his chest. A handful of remarkable things happened: Adam laughed for the first time and the wonderful sound got everyone’s attention, Ronan put money in the jukebox and queued a single song so many times that it got unplugged, Blue impressed the masses of their table with a stunning knowledge of the ethics and environmental impact of the sugarcane industry and artificial sweeteners, and Gansey--</p><p>He felt, for the first time in a long while, like things were right.</p><p>But then their waiter stopped by and set their bill on their table, and by Gansey’s hand, things buckled.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hello hello thank u guys for reading!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. no one stays to see the kill</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>gansey is gansey, adam is adam, conflict ensues</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Parrish wasn’t just pretty eyes. Ronan gathered that well enough the first time they met, but god<em> damn </em>if he didn’t expect him to get so cold with Gansey so suddenly.</p><p>On the one hand, he understood why Adam reacted the way he did, because Ronan knew Gansey. On the other hand -- the more important one -- he did not understand Adam, because Ronan knew Gansey.</p><p>When their waiter slipped by their table, the time-worn guest book with their check had been set down between Blue and Adam. Though both of them made an immediate reach for it, Adam was just a bit quicker -- except Gansey had seen the waiter coming and he already had his wallet out. He entreated Adam with an open hand and an “I’d actually like to foot it, if that’s alright.”</p><p>“It isn’t,” Adam responded flatly. Gansey furrowed his brow. Adam went about taking out his wallet and Blue proceeded to do the same, making Ronan the only one who was sitting still. Unlike the two rookies beside and diagonal to him, he knew how Gansey operated, and Gansey operated like this:</p><p>“I’m afraid don’t understand why it is not,” he admitted. “I invited you all to dinner and I intended to pay for it from the start. So please, Adam, if I may.” Gansey gestured to the folder Adam was keeping in his hands. It wasn’t out of Gansey’s arm’s length, but Ronan knew that he wouldn’t dare try and grab for it. </p><p>“You may not.” Adam dismissed him, flat-toned again, and looked at Blue.</p><p>“Six each. Do you have change? I’ll put in a ten.”</p><p>“Yep.” She rifled through her button-covered wallet then handed him a few bills. “Here’s six singles.”</p><p>“Perfect, thanks.” Ronan watched Adam’s hands as he swiftly tucked ten and two into the folder, pocketed the other four, snapped the checkbook shut, and then finally passed it to Gansey, who looked fully dumbfounded by their exchange. If Ronan was someone who got impressed by math, he probably would have been impressed by how quickly they shuffled around their bills -- instead, he looked on with disinterest, because he was not a tool.</p><p>Gansey held the checkbook like it was a loaded gun, shocked that he’d been excluded from the conversation when he so clearly already had a card (debit) ready in his hands. Ronan knew what his expression meant, and based on Adam’s reactions and how much anger was condensed into Blue’s tiny stature--</p><p>“They’re not gonna get it, man.” But it didn’t do much (or anything, really) to relieve Gansey of his obvious hurt and Ronan could tell.</p><p>“‘Get it’? And what is <em> that </em>supposed to mean?” Blue looked between them.</p><p>“I’m just a bit baffled by how you’re refusing to let me be a decent contributor, is all,” Gansey said, dejected. His brow was knitted as he looked at Adam.</p><p>“Jesus fuck,” Ronan sighed. Usually Gansey was the one who tried to talk ‘sense’ into Ronan, but on the ultra-stupid-wicked rare occasion, it was vice versa. And yes, his apathetic exclamation counted as ‘talking sense.’</p><p>Gansey shook his head. “I’d like to be heard, if that’s alright.”</p><p>Well, shit, he tried. Ronan put up his hands in surrender, then caught his bracelets between his teeth and got to chewing. The maggot looked at him for answers and received none.</p><p>“You can be a ‘decent contributor’ by paying your portion of the bill.” Adam blinked. He looked unbothered, but Ronan knew better -- he noticed Adam setting his jaw, the tension in his shoulders. “It’s really that simple.”</p><p>Gansey looked like he was going to move to push up his glasses, only to remember that he wasn’t wearing contacts. He covered for the motion by pressing two fingers to his temple. “I’m more referring to the fact that you’ve refused to let me return your kindness three separate times over.”</p><p>“I have not done that. I’ve accepted your kindness.”</p><p>“You refused compensation for fixing my car.”</p><p>“Because I spent three minutes looking at it.”</p><p>“You refused to let me buy your coffee this afternoon.”</p><p>“Because my wallet was out and I had my total pre-prepared.”</p><p>“Well, you are currently refusing to allow me to pay for dinner.”</p><p>“Because I don’t need you to <em> pay me </em> for anything, nor do I need you to pay for anything <em> for </em>me. I’m not a charity case.”</p><p>Yowch. Ronan raised his eyebrows. ‘Charity’ was a strong word, and the way Adam spit it was acidic: three syllables laced with icy contempt, fully rejecting any and all pity. That didn’t change that it was spit at Gansey, though.</p><p>“I did not--“</p><p>“Nobody fucking called you one.” Ronan flicked his eyes up at Adam. For the first time, they made full and proper eye contact. Jaws tensed, shoulders stiffened.</p><p>Gansey, however, had flinched when Ronan interrupted. Sharply. “Adam--“</p><p>But Adam was already standing up.</p><p>“If you’d really like to repay me,” he said, “you can stop trying to buy me.”</p><p>Gansey opened his mouth, closed it, opened it, let it hang open, then closed it again. Adam stopped long enough to tip his head in a silent goodbye and glance an extra second at Blue, then just like that, he left. The goddamn nerve.</p><p>“Dramatic ass,” Ronan grumbled in his wake. </p><p>“Oh, <em>screw</em> <em>you</em>, Lynch.” Blue scoffed at him. “Adam didn’t do anything wrong.”</p><p>“The fuck do you mean? Neither did Gansey,” he cut back. She could tell him off, fine. Whatever. Gansey, however, was a different story. </p><p>“Really?” She turned to Gansey. “Funny, because it sounds like you tried to give him money three times, after he probably made it extremely clear that he didn’t want it.”</p><p>Gansey looked flustered. “I didn’t offer him money outright<em>, </em>I simply…”</p><p>He trailed off. Blue had a ‘told you so’ expression. Ronan was properly pissed.</p><p>“--tried to be <em> nice</em>,” he finished for Gansey. “If Parrish has too much fuckin’ pride to accept someone trying to be niceto him, that’s not Gansey’s issue.”</p><p>“You of all people are talking about being <em>nice</em>, that’s just rich. Haw haw, get it? Rich? Well, it’s not about trying to be nice because you don’t have to use <em> money </em>to be nice to somebody.” Blue began to collect the dishes on the table, clearly angry, given the clattering noises she was so obviously making on purpose. She scraped used napkins and food scraps onto one plate and stacked the rest under them, gathered utensils and made them face the same way. “But obviously, since it seems like you both have tons of it, you feel like you can use it to buy people. And I bet neither of you have even worked a single day in either of your cushy lives for that money. Ever buss a table for a paycheck? Take an order? Fix a car?”</p><p>Gansey closed his eyes. “That is precisely what I mean. Adam fixed mine, and since you typically pay someone to do such a thing, I thought--“</p><p>“Somehow, I don’t think you did. Nice is not the same as respect.”</p><p>She punctuated the end of her rant by standing up and pulling the stack of plates to the edge of the table. In the span of her monologue, she’d cleaned up the entire booth.</p><p>Ronan scowled, annoyed. Gansey looked at her and appeared ashamed, but also enamored.</p><p>(Ronan scowled deeper, now annoyed <em> and </em>disgusted.)</p><p>“Scram, Sargent. You don’t know shit about either of us,” he snapped. </p><p>They stared at each other, not unlike how he stared down Adam but completely unlike how he stared at Adam. Blue adjusted her bag over her shoulder and stuck up her chin.</p><p>“You’re right,” she said, backing away from the table, “I don’t.”</p>
<hr/><p>Blue caught up with him a short ways away from the restaurant. Adam was only half expecting her, but he didn’t want to know what she said to Gansey and Ronan. He was fully certain that she had said <em> something </em>to them on her way out.</p><p>“Trying to catch the night shuttle or walking?” She asked him, breathless from jogging.</p><p>“Walking,” he replied.</p><p>And so they walked. Neither of them specified a direction -- they just continued towards Warren. She didn’t ask if he was okay (he was) or bring up what had happened and he appreciated that. Blue understood.</p><p>He almost felt bad about expecting Gansey to understand, too. (Ronan? Not so much.)</p><p>“It’s nice to see you again,” Blue eventually said. She had been trying to keep her eyes on the sky as much as possible, he noticed. “A surprise, which makes it worse. I feel like I should have known that you wanted to come here. That you came here.”</p><p>Adam shrugged. “You couldn’t have. We never talked about it.”</p><p>“We never talked about a lot of things,” Blue recalled, sounding faraway. He considered this.</p><p>That was the largest reason why their relationship never went anywhere. He kept her at a distance and Blue didn’t get it, but she kept him at a distance too and Adam didn’t get it. As good of friends as they were, neither of them were ready to be truly vulnerable with each other, so they split, and then they drifted. </p><p>“You’re right.”</p><p>Adam let the tight reins he practiced keeping on his accent slip a little. For her. He tried so hard to conceal his history from everybody, but trying to do so from Blue was pointless.</p><p>“Have you visited Henrietta since you moved?” Blue kicked a pebble down the sidewalk.</p><p>“Not much,” he replied. This was one of the things they did not talk about: the place Adam Parrish was supposed to call home. Since he had started college, his world got bigger, meaning that the old double-wide trailer had more or less expanded to all of Henrietta.</p><p>She nodded. “Persephone asks about you.”</p><p>“How is she?”</p><p>“Persephone,” Blue deadpanned. It made him smile.</p><p>“And do you like it here?”</p><p>“Yeah, I do. I still feel like I just got here, and I feel like everyone else knows more about this place than me, but I don’t mind. It’ll be like that everywhere else I go, so. Do you?”</p><p>“It’s crazy, how much I do,” Adam replied.</p><p>“I really don’t think it’s <em> that </em>crazy. You’re in your element here, nerd.”</p><p>He wished that were true, but this place was not his element: it was Gansey’s. The people he went to class with were not Adams, who fought tooth and nail to earn enough money and get the grades they needed to make it out of their childhood houses. They were Ganseys, who didn’t need a cent of financial aid, who had parents that had enough money to send them around the country -- around the world -- and back without needing to check a single bank account first. He was sure that Blue knew this, because she was Blue, and Blue was too smart not to see it.</p><p>“Am I?” He looked at her.</p><p>“Surely not <em> everyone </em>you’ve met has been a richie rich or an asshole, Adam. Please give me some sort of hope.”</p><p>She didn’t need to say their names.</p><p>“That’s true, I know some good people.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“We don’t talk much.”</p><p>“Is it because you’re busy with school, or is it work?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Typical.” Blue laughed a little, then she elbowed him gently. “Well, here’s to one more friend, I hope.”</p><p>There was the word: friend. It had weighed heavily on his shoulders since they first saw each other, and now that it was finally spoken, that weight had dissolved and relief flowed into his lungs. He <em> liked </em> Blue once, surely, but years apart ensured that those feelings settled; it was a relief to know that it was mutual. Adam knew how much she must have resented how they fell out of touch, when it was the one thing they both agreed to not let happen.</p><p>“Of course we are,” he confirmed, decidingly putting an arm around her shoulder in a half-hug.</p><p>“Great!” Blue chirped, sliding her arm around him, too. “Because my phone -- oh, yeah, I finally have one of those now -- died a while ago and I have no idea where we are. I’ve been following your lead this whole time.”</p><p>“I’ll help if you tell me what the hell got you arrested.” </p><p>There was a twinkle in her eye as she grinned. “Deal.”<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>once again thank u so much for reading! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. i think i need a teaching</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>a bluesey chapter! gansey asks blue for advice with apologizing to adam :-)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A week and a half elapsed and Gansey hadn’t seen Adam or Blue since. After fumbling through their last interaction so cluelessly -- after Adam left the way he did -- after Blue left the way she did, Gansey had just assumed that neither of them wanted anything else to do with him or Ronan. As such, out of respect for Adam’s space, he began to study at the Seondeok Library instead of Laumonier.</p><p>Gansey was also, however, incapable of fully letting matters sit. Much to Ronan’s chagrin.</p><p>When he explained his first plan to bring Adam a coffee as a peace offering, Ronan rolled his eyes so intensely that it almost looked painful. The upside to his ridicule: it made Gansey consider how the gesture could still be taken as tactless, given how the issue was about money, and how a coffee needed to be paid for with money, and how Adam didn’t want his money, and how he had refused to let him buy him a coffee in the first place, and how--</p><p>Jesus, was it a predicament. </p><p>That coffee-as-an-olive branch idea was a week old. Ever since Ronan shot down his initial plan of making amends, Gansey had something new to think about when his insomnia kept him awake. But, seeing as Ronan’s feedback stopped being helpful after round one and how Gansey clearly didn’t understand Adam, he eventually realized that the only thing he could do was talk to somebody who <em> did.</em></p><p>And Ronan miraculously knew how he could find her.</p>
<hr/><p>Just as he said: Blue Sargent had been in a tree. Where Ronan used “motherfucking weird-ass Tree Girl” to describe her, Gansey would have gone with “eccentric, curious, and fascinating.”</p><p>(Ronan said those were all just nicer ways of saying “weird.” Gansey dismissed it.)</p><p>It was an odd thing, reading in a tree. Perhaps it was odd because he’d never done it himself, or perhaps it was odd because he’d never thought to try it. Either way, Gansey stood a few paces away from the sycamore tree, hands in his pockets and heart stuttering. He wet his lips and tipped his head, trying to catch her eye. Something about her was captivating and he was unwilling to let her and Adam go so easily -- not when he felt like there was something <em> worth it </em>there.</p><p>“Pardon my interruption, Jane,” he called up to her.</p><p>She didn’t look up. Gansey saw two white wires snaking from her ears, so he sidestepped a little more under her line of sight and tried to greet her with a hand behind his back and the other in a two-fingered wave. “Hello, Jane.”</p><p>She most certainly had to have noticed him. She chose not to acknowledge him.</p><p>Gansey sighed, albeit with a smile on his face.</p><p>“Good afternoon, Blue,” he tried again. That attempt was successful and she took out her earbuds.</p><p>“Gansey,” Blue returned, not entirely affably. “Wonderful that you finally remembered my name.”</p><p>“Remembered it? I’ve certainly not forgotten it. I just so happen to rather like the name Jane.”</p><p>She wrinkled her nose. “I do not and will not answer to Jane.”</p><p>“I did not and will not ask you to,” Gansey conceded.</p><p>Blue remained unfaltering. “Can I help you?” Her tone and her chopped syllables indicated that she was not exactly eager to hear him out, but Gansey persevered. Something there -- worth it, worth it, worth it. </p><p>“Actually, yes, if you were willing. I was hoping that you might be able to help me in appealing to Adam.”</p><p>“<em>Appealing </em>to Adam? You want me to set you up with him?” She raised her eyebrows.</p><p>“Ah, no,” he responded, holding up his hands. He knew that the two were high school friends and he thought that he had seen something in their glances that night at the diner, so combined with her current surprise… Oh. “Not in that sense of the word. Are you two seeing one another? My intention is not to overstep, he’s entirely yours.”</p><p>This was not the right thing to say. It was not the right conclusion to draw.</p><p>“You should really think about what you say before you speak,” Blue scoffed. That one -- that one stung, because Gansey <em> did</em>. Or, he genuinely tried, at least. He’s spent enough nights stewing in guilt about mishandling social situations to be a conscious conversationalist. “First of all, just assuming we’re interested in one another is horribly heteronormative, because no, we’re not. He’s my <em> friend </em>and girls and boys can be <em> friends</em>. Second of all, people are not things to be had. Third of all--“</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Gansey interrupted, surprising even himself. He didn’t make much of a habit out of cutting people off. “I apologize, Jane. I interpreted your incredulity incorrectly. I meant that I want your advice on how to apologize to Adam -- I’ve felt awful about how things transpired between us and I thought you’d be the best person to turn to for help.” He took a breath. “As such, I very much do not wish to botch my chances at remedying my mistake with Adam by also upsetting you. So, again, I--“</p><p>“You’re sorry,” she said, interrupting him this time. Unless the angle at which he was looking up at her was deceiving him, Gansey thought that her smile was amused. “Okay. You’re forgiven. For everything except for calling me Jane.”</p><p>He exhaled, relieved. “Thank you--“</p><p>“Say Jane and I won’t help you,” she warned, pointing a dangerous finger at him.</p><p>“--Jane,” he said anyway. </p><p>Blue squinted at him and didn’t lower her finger.</p><p>“You gutsy boat shoed-bastard.”</p><p>Despite himself, Gansey’s smile widened.</p>
<hr/><p>They went to that coffee shop again and Blue was pleased when he didn’t try, let alone offer, to pay for her coffee. It felt like a testament to how he must have actually listened to her at their dinner.</p><p>Blue liked how earnest he was about wanting her help. Gone was the refined poise and excessive properness of the yuppie prep probably raised on caviar instead of mushy peas, the one that answered his phone like a multi-million corporation CEO -- and present was someone Blue found much more stomachable, somebody real, somebody who made mistakes, somebody who admitted to them. Though he had never claimed to be perfect, he had initially just seemed… Like the type to <em> think </em> he was.</p><p>But the more they talked, the more she felt like her initial reading of him was a bit hasty.</p><p>“I thought about what he said and what you repeated,” he confided, his hands closed around his cup. “About ‘buying’ people. I suppose I’ve just never had it framed for me that way.”</p><p>“Let me guess.” Blue took her time and drew a long sip from her coffee. When she held his attention, she knew he was listening. “You’ve either A, only really been friends with people who also came from considerable wealth; B, only really been friends with opportunists who were more than happy to let you pay for things; or C, both A and B.”</p><p>Gansey looked sheepish. She took that as her answer and huffed. In this conversation, she knew she walked a line -- it wasn’t her place to talk about Adam’s financial situation. She avoided all statements that would be invasive and revealing. </p><p>“Most people don’t have the luxury of being able to just offer their money around like that.” Blue was in partial disbelief of the fact that it was something that needed to be explained, so she made herself feel better by reminding herself that Gansey <em> wanted </em>her to level with him. He was seeking betterment and that deserved credit. “In my opinion, when you push it on them even after they decline, it’s insensitive, not nice or considerate. It feels -- flaunty.” </p><p>He opened his mouth.</p><p>“Even when you don’t mean for it to be, Gansey,” she continued. “Intention counts, but interpretation usually wins out.”</p><p>“Noted,” he responded, wearing an expression that showed her that he really meant <em> noted. </em> “You handled your financial matters together without a hitch, and you split a meal. Is it a matter of closeness? As in, if we become close, does it become more acceptable?”</p><p>“I don’t think so. I feel like it’s just different coming from someone like you.”</p><p>He pressed his thumb to his mouth. He did that a lot, she noticed. “Someone like me.”</p><p>“Someone <em> rich.</em>” Blue then held up her hands. “Don’t get me wrong. Everyone is different -- other people might like your offers and see it as generosity. Adam and I are just not those people.”</p><p>“Also noted. So to correct matters with Adam, I should…” </p><p>“Admit where you were wrong?” Blue suggested. “You didn’t organize some grand gesture to talk to me, so do that for him. Talk to him honestly and mean what you say.”</p><p>Gansey cocked his head at her, like she was a subject to be studied. It was either annoying or flattering and she couldn’t seem to decide which. Of all the people she’d met in her first few short months at Warren, he confused her the most, and all three of their encounters only muddied her opinion of him. A part of her wanted to like him and the other part was dissuaded by all of the things that made them different. </p><p>“I appreciate that, Jane. Truly.”</p><p>“<em>Blue.” </em>She turned her coffee cup so that her name was facing him.</p><p>He only smiled in response.</p><p>She sighed. “Well, you should know, he’s extremely headstrong. And independent. He may take a while to warm up to you.”</p><p>“You also strike me as extremely headstrong and independent,” he said, looking contemplative. “Have I managed to get you to warm up to me?”</p><p>Blue blinked. Had he?</p><p>“If you’re asking me if I think you’re charming, I think you have a lot to learn about me.”</p><p>Gansey grinned and leaned forward. “As in you’ll be giving me the chance to do so?” Again -- he was earnest<em>. </em>The way he said it was less ‘I’m very suave and you won’t resist me for long’ and more ‘I would, in fact, like to learn more about you, if you let me.’ There was something there, something about that.</p><p>“We’ll see,” Blue settled, and she took another drink of her coffee.</p><p>“I’m inclined to receive that as a ‘yes.’”</p><p>“We’ll see,” she said again, firmer that time, as she hid her smile behind her cup. </p>
<hr/><p>Of all the people he’d interacted with during his time at Warren, none seemed half as passionate about their studies as Blue Sargent. </p><p>He didn’t expect to talk about more than apologizing to Adam, but then Blue asked about his copy of <em> Le Morte d’Arthur </em> and he rambled, then he asked about <em> The Ecology of Trees in the Tropical Rainforest </em> and she rambled, then he told her that he’s explored the Daintree Rainforest in Australia. It all spiraled from there.</p><p>Gansey’s heart rate immediately spiked when he realized that it came across as boastful, but his seconds of fretting were cut short when Blue’s eyes lit up. She asked questions and for pictures and the longing in her voice was as clear as the dream in her eyes. As he talked, he openly worried that he was being <em> flaunty, </em>seeing as his parents’ wealth was what had allowed him to travel so much of the world. Blue shook her head.</p><p>“I’m envious, sure,” she admitted, frankly and admirably, “but I really do want to hear about these things. If I get annoyed, I promise you’ll know. How many World Heritage Sites have you visited? Which was your favorite?”</p><p>He didn’t doubt that. Blue was incredibly forward spoken and it relieved him of the pressure of needing to guess intentions and parse truth out of passive aggression. Needless to say, Gansey very much enjoyed her company -- and he sought out more of it by hopefully asking if they could trade numbers.</p><p>On his way back to his apartment, his cell phone felt infinitely heavier with ten new and invaluable digits.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>once again i appreciate ur guys’ support and interest so much!! &lt;3 i love their dynamics and i’m just having fun w casually jamming about them, so it makes me happy to know that people enjoy reading it! once again, comments make my heart explode + i’m happy to write them in situations u guys want to read about!! lotsa love xxx</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. shadows fall and sun shines</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>the gang has a picnic!! adam still doesn’t quite believe in the nonexistence of coincidences, but he does learn a little about ronan.... ,’:)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A few days ago, Gansey apologized to Adam during one of his shifts at Laumonier. After Adam accepted it, Gansey then pitched his hopeful thought of attempting another get-together for the four of them. A potluck-style picnic on a campus glade was an incredibly <em> Blue </em>idea; Adam knew how fond she was of being outdoors. That was why he was so surprised to learn that it had been entirely Gansey’s plan, not hers. </p><p>Despite it being mid-October, the grass was still green and the sun was unobstructed, making it a decent day for a picnic. Adam arrived at their agreed location to find Blue early and alone, sprawled over a constellation-patterned tapestry that was laid out in the grass. He announced his approach by dropping the bag of grapes and the box of crackers he’d brought for the occasion onto the tapestry. </p><p>“Hey,” Blue greeted, roused by the sound he made. She rolled from her back onto her side. “Nice, green grapes.”</p><p>“White, technically,” Adam corrected, somewhat smiling. She flapped a dismissive hand at him. </p><p>
  <em> “Pshaw.” </em>
</p><p>“Is this the same tapestry you had pinned up at home?” He sat down and claimed a corner of the thing, having vaguely recognized it as part of her whimsical room from years ago. It looked like she had brought a package of yogurt (typical and self-indulgent, very Blue) and a few bags of different trail mixes. </p><p>She grinned and gave him a lone cowboy shooter. “You remembered it! And are those--?”</p><p>“Yeah.” </p><p>Blue extended a hand and onto it, Adam placed a silk bag. She looked like she was about to tip its contents out, except she hesitated and handed it back to him instead. </p><p>“One tarot reading, please.”</p><p>“I’m out of practice,” he warned. Adam scooped the deck of cards out of the bag and began to shuffle through them. They originally belonged to her aunt, Persephone, but she passed them on to him some time before he and Blue broke things off, having said that they’d serve him better instead. He couldn’t clearly remember the last time he picked them up to read someone’s cards, let alone his own. But, at the very least, he found comfort in the fact that it was for Blue.</p><p>“Oh, well. Just a quick three spread?”</p><p>“General messages from the universe?”</p><p>Blue smiled. She pushed herself up so that she could sit across from him with folded legs. “See? You <em> are </em>psychic material.”</p><p>“Pshaw,” he said, mimicking what he called her catchphrase. Persephone taught him how to read cards, yes -- Adam just didn’t know how much stock he put into what they said. Sometimes things just happened to play out as coincidences, sometimes things were too uncanny to just be coincidences. Nonetheless, while Adam knew that he consistently dealt better with facts and functions, he was told that he had an affinity for working with divination tools, too. And he was better than discounting what someone did for a living, Blue’s family especially.</p><p>He set the deck down between them. Blue, knowing the drill, split it three ways, and Adam flipped around the card on top of each little stack. </p><p>The first card was the Page of Cups, upright. Potential. She snorted, unsurprised. Blue and that card was one of those ‘so uncanny that it sort of stopped feeling coincidental’ things.</p><p>The second was the Two of Cups, upright. Attraction, new partnerships, mutuality. This one made both of them raise their eyebrows. They exchanged glances, then Adam proceeded with the final card.</p><p>The third -- Death, upright. </p><p>The first two cards delivered a pretty clear message. Adam was aware that Blue knew more than enough about tarot cards to have gotten it on her own. The biggest question in front of them: <em> Death? </em>Adam picked up the card and inspected it for symbolism, before turning it around for Blue to look at.</p><p>“Yee haw,” she deadpanned. “Blue Sargent and some form of metaphorical Death are mutually attracted to one another.”</p><p>“At least it’s only a metaphorical Death,” Gansey said brightly, suddenly present and smiling and stepping up to the blanket Blue had put down. Ronan was right beside him with a… Big black bird on his shoulder. </p><p>Huh. </p><p>Okay, then.</p><p>“You brought Chainsaw,” Blue greeted, gleeful. She scooted closer to a corner of the tapestry to make room for all three of them. Adam deduced that Chainsaw was, in fact, the name of Ronan’s bird. As he moved to sit down, it launched off of his shoulder and began to pick around at the grass. Adam wondered if the bird’s talons were at all painful.</p><p>Gansey and Ronan brought cuts of cheese, a package of salami, and a jug of iced tea. All together, they had something of a board-free charcuterie board. Plus strawberry yogurt. Blue took everyone’s arrival as her green light for ripping the foil top off of one of the little cups she brought. She also asked Ronan if she could feed Chainsaw, and to Adam’s surprise, he instructed her on how to safely offer the bird food with minimal shitheadery -- and it almost looked like he was capable of doing something without being an asshole about it.</p><p>Gansey seemed just as interested in their interaction as he was. Then, he turned to Adam.</p><p>“You read tarot cards, Adam?” Gansey said, trying to strike up their own conversation. Blue laughed in delight, presumably because she successfully fed Chainsaw, and Gansey glanced over for just a second. Adam ran his finger over the edge of the card in his hand and considered Gansey’s glancing. He slipped Blue’s cards back into his deck and began to shuffle them once more.</p><p>“Blue’s aunt taught me a long time ago. It’s been a while, so I’m rusty, but she gave me this deck when I learned.” And, before Gansey could ask, Adam offered. “Do you want to draw a card?”</p><p>“I’d love to.”</p><p>He swept the deck out into an easy and elegant fan, as if he’d been doing it all his life. Gansey pressed his thumb to his mouth while his other hand hovered over the spread. After a few moments of silent deliberation, he slid one out, and Adam gestured for him to flip it over.</p><p>Just as he suspected it would be. His fingertips tingled with something without a name. Ronan and Blue had stopped feeding Chainsaw and were watching, too. Gansey looked up at Adam, evidently searching for some clarification. </p><p>“At least it’s only a metaphorical death,” Adam echoed. He felt keenly aware of how Blue and Gansey now refused to look at each other.</p><p>“Ah-hah,” Ronan laughed, mocking and sardonic and dry and teasingly singsong around a handful of trail mix. “The maggot is mutually attracted to Dickie. Good shit, Parrish.”</p><p>Ronan had been paying attention. That surprised Adam.</p><p>“Please, not with the name,” Gansey sighed, at the same time Blue hissed her retort.</p><p>“I only like your bird.” She threw an almond at Ronan’s head.</p><p><em> “Kerah!” </em>Chainsaw screeched, chasing after the almond.</p><p>“Like I care.”</p><p>“Huh? What? Huh, Ronan? What’ja say? Oh, <em> aw.</em> You care? So sweet.”</p><p>“You little shit--“ Ronan‘s lip curled down and he swiped at Blue.</p><p>“Bite me!”</p><p>“My bird just fucking might.”</p><p>“You’re full of it, Lynch.”</p><p>“More volume than you, shortass.”</p><p>“Oh, you shithead--“</p><p>Once again, Gansey turned to Adam. He looked a little less concerned than he did when they were at the diner, though.</p><p>“Are they--“ he gestured between Blue and Ronan, still holding the Death card, “--friends?”</p><p>Adam tipped his head as he watched them bicker, cracked a ghost of a smile, then shrugged. “Beats me. Are you familiar with tarot?”</p><p>“Not entirely.” Gansey passed his card back.</p><p>“Well, like we said, Death is usually symbolic,” Adam explained. He went more into its meaning. “But, overall, it’s hardly as threatening as the Tower.”</p><p>For the hell of it, Adam took a quick and wild guess and removed a card from the spread. It read <em> the Tower </em>when he flipped it over, plain as day.</p><p>Gansey made a humming noise of approval.</p><p>“Fun coincidence,” Adam said, because it was. He quickly scrunched the cards back up into a straight deck.</p><p>“I don’t think so,” Gansey said, smiling. Adam remembered that he didn’t believe in coincidences. But it was, wasn’t it?</p>
<hr/><p>The picnic happened around noon, and when the hour was up, Adam had to leave for class. Immediately afterwards, he had an office hours appointment with his Latin professor. She was a kind woman, an engaging lecturer, and they talked before and after classes. Adam had merely neglected to properly drop in because he had another class during her available hours. It took finishing midterms to get him to finally pony up and schedule an appointment -- but when he walked into the Classics building, the last thing Adam expected to see was<em> Ronan.</em></p><p><em>Ronan, </em>turning a corner and striding down the opposite end of the hallway, holding hands with a little girl. Ronan, the one who swore with every breath, the one who recently got arrested for street racing, the one who had a raven and tattoos crawling up the nape of his neck -- <em> that </em> Ronan Lynch. That Ronan Lynch was in the company of a child who looked perfectly happy to skip alongside him.</p><p>Adam forced himself to keep walking through his stutter-step as they approached each other. Did he have a younger sister? That wouldn’t have been out of the question, given how little they knew about one another. ‘Little’ was close to nothing, after all. It was just -- solely based on what Adam <em> did </em>know about Ronan, he seemed like the last person who would hang out with a kid, willingly or unwillingly. Then Ronan noticed him too.</p><p>The hallway suddenly seemed to stretch for another mile. Adam refused to duck his head or drop his gaze first, so they walked toward one another in a stalemate of stares.</p><p>“Parrish,” he said, not missing a beat when they finally passed each other. The acknowledgement surprised Adam, though Ronan’s voice was void of a traitorous tone. Adam couldn’t get a read on what he was thinking.</p><p>“Lynch,” he responded. Blue, blue, blue; cold blue eyes with messages as easy to decipher as ancient hieroglyphics.</p><p>And that was that.</p><p>As he rounded a corner and walked the rest of the hallway, Adam processed what he had seen. Gansey probably knew what was up, or maybe, somehow, Blue did -- he even considered texting her. Then he asked himself why he cared, or what he’d do with the knowledge if he got it. Adam ultimately decided that there wasn’t much sense behind wondering what Ronan was doing, hanging out with a kid on the campus of a school he didn’t even go to. Strange as the sight was, he had other matters to think about.</p><p>(Wonder, after all, was reserved for people who had time to spare. Adam Parrish had none.)</p><p>He reached his professor’s office and knocked twice on the open door prior to stepping inside.</p><p>“Good afternoon, Professor.” He nodded his head in greeting. “Is now a good time to--?”</p><p>“Oh, please, Adam. You’re as punctual as ever.” His professor waved him inside and gestured for him to sit. She smiled and folded her hands atop her desk. “You did just miss my daughter by a hair, though. Our sitter picks her up when my wife and I are both working.”</p><p>Their sitter--</p><p>Oh<em>. </em></p><p>Gears of a machine named Wonder -- gears he thought he had stalled indefinitely -- began tumbling in his head. But Adam still smiled, politely returning his professor’s warmth. “You have a daughter?”</p><p>“We do! Her name is Opal, sweet thing. We adopted her a couple of years ago.” She turned a picture frame on her desk, showing him the photo of two women and the little blonde girl he saw in the hallway. All three of them were beaming.</p><p>
  <em> Oh. </em>
</p><p>Against his better judgement, gears kept spinning, spinning, spinning -- spinning in curious orbit around one Ronan Lynch.<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thanks 4 reading! &lt;3 every time i get a lil email about kudos + comments my heart goes !!! so please please please let me know if ur enjoying the story, i am but a simple writing vending machine &amp; comments are my quarters.</p><p>(i am STOKED to say that noah’s being written into the next chapter!!! yeehaw!)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. a brother and a friend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>ronan runs into blue, who is hanging out with noah — and so the three of them spend a night in each other’s company</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i wasn’t sure how to write noah in a noncanonverse setting, but i decided to combine the way he was described to act when he was alive with the softer qualities that he presented as a ghost. i hope i did him justice! :-)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ronan Lynch met Noah Czerny because of Blue Sargent, but they became friends because of a cool night shared with peach schnapps and a large order of french fries.</p>
<hr/><p>Though Ronan didn’t actively <em> avoid </em> Adam after they saw each other after the picnic, he also didn’t put a ton of effort into seeing him again. No trips to Laumonier with or for Gansey, no lingering under Blue’s tree when he saw Chainsaw, no shit like that. It just happened to work out that way, both with and through no effort on Ronan’s part. Of course, if Gansey’s fiendish reading trend was any indication of how things were going at Warren, the post-midterm recovery lull was over and courses were back in full swing. Poor student hacks, exhausted <em> and </em> scammed by the system. </p><p>...Ronan wondered about how Parrish was doing, far more than he would have chosen to.</p><p>Just like he wondered what Adam thought he was doing when he was babysitting Opal. </p><p>And like how he wondered if he was wasting his time, wondering about somebody the way he was wondering.</p><p>Ronan also wondered why he couldn’t stop fucking <em> wondering </em>about Adam.</p><p>How much those cheekbones haunted his memory was part of the reason why, come the next weekend, Ronan decided to pay a nearby corner store a visit. His Friday night itinerary involved: burning the fuck out of his tires on a drive up to the cliffs and ridges overlooking the forest at the far end of town, getting properly shitfaced while parked at a peak, crashing in his car for the night, waking up (more than likely hungover) to a bunch of missed calls from Gansey, then cruising back home to nap on the couch for the rest of the afternoon. </p><p>It was a solid plan, always was. Ronan used to kill time with Kavinsky that way, but that was before Kavinsky became infuckingtolerable. </p><p>When he strolled into the liquor store that evening, Ronan planned on grabbing a case of beer and that was it. He did not plan on rounding an endcap into the alcohol aisle to find none other than Blue Sargent holding up a bottle of vodka and a bottle of peach schnapps up for some dude with a skateboard to appraise. She had a pair of rollerskates hanging over her shoulder by a strap, too.</p><p>(Did his chest tighten at the sight of them on Gansey’s behalf? He thought it did. And it was fucking <em> stupid,</em> is what it was.)</p><p>“You gotta be twenty one to buy alcohol, twerp,” Ronan drawled, though he was already crouching in front of the shelves of beer options and not looking at her when he said it. “News flash, you’re like twelve.”</p><p>Skateboard guy snickered. Blue snapped her head at him and made an indignant noise.</p><p>“I turned twenty one in August, you prick,” she retaliated. “Is that for you and Gansey?”</p><p>Ronan pulled a case out and slowly turned to face her with an unamused ‘<em> really?’ </em>expression on his face. The two of them stared at one another for a long moment -- then Blue’s face split into a smile and she rolled her eyes.</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>, I am kidding.” She nodded her head to her side. “Noah, this is Ronan. Lynch, meet Czerny.”</p><p>“Oh, man. The dude with the raven, right?” The Noah guy grinned. He held out a fist, but Ronan just looked at it until Noah dropped it. “Nice to meet you,” he said anyway.</p><p>“Can’t keep my name out of your mouth, Sargent?”</p><p>“Don't flatter yourself. Why a twelve pack?”</p><p>He raised his eyebrows at her. “Why peach piss and Svedka?”</p><p>She wrinkled her nose. “I hate when you answer my questions with questions.”</p><p>“Peach piss, Svedka, and also cranberry juice,” Noah submitted, holding up a bottle of Ocean Spray. “For peach cosmos. Wait, hey -- schnapps is good.” He frowned. Actually, it was more of a pout? Christ.</p><p>Ronan sneered. “If the Pillsbury Doughboy had a dick, he’d piss peach schnapps.”</p><p>Blue and Noah exchanged a look; Blue made a <em> ‘well, he’s not wrong’ </em>noise and Noah agreed with a laugh.</p><p>“Wait, Blue mentioned that you street race! What do you drive?”</p><p><em> This </em> got Ronan’s attention. He spared Blue a glance and she shrugged. She tossed her fringe out of her face, all attitude and <em>I say whatever I want to whoever I want. </em></p><p>“A 1986 BMW,” he responded, “M3, E30. You?”</p><p>“A spicy red Mustang GT, 1990. Tricked. Out.”</p><p>“I can sit under the spoiler and use it like a dining table.” Blue rolled her eyes but was also smiling. “It’s really just that obnoxious.” She said it teasingly, and the dig she made into his ribs with her elbow made it clear that it was supposed to be received as one.</p><p>“No, no, no. That makes it cool <em> and </em> functional,” Noah chirped. Blue went in on about how, for some reason, all the boys in her life had a <em> thing </em>about cars. He dimly realized which boys she was talking about: Adam, Noah, Gansey, and himself. Noah argued that cars -- fast ones especially -- were worthy of having a thing about.</p><p>Ronan immediately found it fucking weird that the two of them were friends, because as <em> weird </em> as Blue was herself, there was something boyish and youthful about Noah. He didn’t strike Ronan as the type of person Blue would hang out with. Then again, though? He didn’t think Gansey was either, but those two had been awfully chummy at their picnic.</p><p>“Well, what say you, Lynch?” Blue queried, raising her bottles and sounding suspiciously archaic, just like Gansey often did. “Join us for peach cosmos?”</p><p>“We’re also getting cheeseburgers,” Noah added.</p><p>“And cheeseburgers.” She nodded sagely.</p><p>Ronan only had one thing to say.</p><p>“You’ve been talking to Gansey,” he told Blue -- a reminder veiled as an accusation, like a ghost wearing a white sheet.</p>
<hr/><p>They didn’t race to the peaks because Noah ‘didn’t<em> race </em> like Ronan did’ -- but they also didn’t exactly <em> not </em>race to the peaks. After they checked out at the liquor store and finished hitting up some fast food drive-through, Ronan led Noah and Blue to his usual overlook. And Czerny had been impressively capable of keeping up.</p><p>When they finally parked, Blue had tumbled out of Noah’s Mustang with a whoop and her hands stretched up, as if she were trying to pick the stars out of the sky. Noah got out with the three bottles and a big, grease-stained bag in his arms, then set it all down onto the spoiler of his Mustang. </p><p>“Okay,” Blue laughed, turning back towards them, “okay. I <em> guess </em>I can see why you guys like doing that so much.”</p><p>Ronan set the case of beers at the foot of Noah’s car after he grabbed one for himself. It popped open with a clean, satisfying <em> crack.</em> “And so she’s seen the light,” he said, smiling wryly and lifting his drink in mock-cheers.</p><p>(So far, his decision to join forces with Blue and Noah: not a total bust.)</p><p>“Wait, wait, wait,” Noah said. He was hastily unscrewing the caps off of all three bottles; he claimed the schnapps, and much to Ronan’s amusement, Blue took the vodka. Once they were all holding drinks, Noah nodded for them to proceed. “Okay, now we’re good. To Blue rolling down all the windows and yelling <em> woooooo!” </em></p><p>Ronan laughed, Blue laughed, Noah took a long drink of peach piss. The festivities began.</p><p>Blue had brought two reusable water bottles: one was responsibly filled with water, the other was empty. While Noah held the latter of the two bottles, Blue and Ronan poured in two parts vodka, one part schnapps, and barely any cranberry juice. After vigorous shaking, they had their community peach cosmo to go along with their flat cheeseburgers and almost-cold french fries. </p><p>Even if the universe was only a jar and stars were just breathing holes poked into a lid, that night, the three of them allowed themselves to feel like the center of it all.</p><p>Ronan turned on the BMW and cranked up the radio -- Blue dumped vodka into a chocolate shake and pointed out constellations -- Noah attempted to demonstrate a ‘nollie frontside 180 heelflip’ with the schnapps bottle in one hand and half a burger in the other. Ronan tried to teach both of them how to shotgun a beer, something he was an expert at, but Blue was a hilarious/coughing/determined nightmare and Noah couldn’t stop laughing at her long enough to try. They were loud, they were loose, they were royal -- and much to Ronan’s surprise, they were bonding. It was a little easier to believe for his alcohol-addled brain.</p><p>At some point of the night, when Noah decided to seize control of the music and was switching Ronan’s electronica for Blink-182, Blue passed Ronan her not-water water bottle and Ronan traded her the can tab he bent off of his latest beer. She was using them to make more weirdo jewelry, she told him, so he’d made a point of giving them to her.</p><p>“Hey,” Blue said, “Ronan.”</p><p>“What d’you want?”</p><p>She was looking up at the sky.</p><p>“Do <em> you </em>believe in coincidences?”</p><p>His answer came easily. Ronan took a drink of peach cosmo -- it wasn’t horrible, but he still didn’t get how Noah could drink saccharine peach schnapps straight. “I believe in Gansey,” he said, very confident for a drunk man.</p><p>“So you believe in fate?”</p><p>“I said I believe in Gansey.”</p><p>“What then, is Gansey your religion?”</p><p>“I’m fucking Catholic, Sarge.”</p><p>“Ganseism,” Blue whispered, and it was a disconnected response with no tethers to Ronan’s correction, but she still nodded very seriously. He laughed sharply and gave back her water bottle.</p><p>“I’d like to meet Gansey,” Noah piped up, suddenly rejoining them. He emerged from the passenger seat of the BMW, having successfully put on his music without them noticing. Ronan glared at him.</p><p>“Make a fucking noise, dude. Kick a rock, scuff some dirt, don’t just sneak up all creepy as hell. Jesus God.”</p><p>Noah didn’t apologize and simply took to leaning against Blue, cheek against her head. “You guys just talk lots about him.”</p><p>This confused Ronan. He didn’t think he said much about Gansey, leaving him to assume that Blue had been the one doing the ‘talking lots’ about Gansey.</p><p>She hummed and smiled. “You gotta meet Adam, too. We’ll hang out.”</p><p>“Again ‘n again with the group shit. Give it a goddamn rest already.”</p><p>“Pshaw,” Blue snorted. “I bet you love the group shit.”</p><p>“<em>Gansey </em>loves the group shit.”</p><p>“Fine, okay, whatever, then you love Gansey enough to do group shit.”</p><p>Ronan did not deny this. It made Blue smug.</p><p>Noah sounded philosophical. “Does this count as group shit?”</p><p>“I think it counts as group shit,” Blue agreed. “But I also think we should stop saying ‘group shit.”’</p><p>In perfect and unplanned unison, Ronan and Noah both said: “Group shit.” </p><p>All three of them lost it.</p><p>“We could do this with them next weekend,” Noah suggested. “Would they like this?”</p><p>“Well, Gansey <em> drinks</em>,” Ronan said, ironing out the slurring from his voice to imitate Gansey best, “he does not <em> get drunk.”  </em></p><p>It made Blue burst into a fit of laughter, though she became somber only two breaths later. “Maybe not this,” she said, “Adam has work in the mornings, I think. So something else.” <em> Without drinking, </em>her suggestion said, without her actually having to say it. </p><p>Ronan wondered why. Then the two of them shared a moment. With no artificial light to illuminate their faces, it was hard to make out each others’ expressions, but Ronan was thinking about Adam and he felt like Blue was thinking about Gansey. Noah revealed that he was thinking about adopting a kitten and he patted Blue’s hair in wistful longing, making her laugh again and lean into him. Ronan raised his eyebrows. </p><p>Maybe Blue <em> wasn’t </em>thinking of Gansey.</p><p>“Is this a thing?” With less of a filter than usual, there was a true nothing keeping his thoughts from turning into actual words. “You two.”</p><p>Blue looked surprised; Noah just wrapped his arm around her and closed his eyes for a moment. “What do you mean?” She asked. “You can hug a friend, Ronan. You know what a hug is. Or is it the ‘friend’ part that’s confusing?”</p><p>(Noah seemed to slump a little more against her, imperceptibly settling after Blue’s quietly devastating blow. Ronan noticed this; Blue did not. Then the thought slipped away, lost to Ronan’s heightened disinterest and lowered information retention.)</p><p>“So no?”</p><p>“No, but they say you need at least eight hugs a day,” Noah explained. “Like glasses of water. I think hugs are better.”</p><p>Blue’s tone was goading. “Are you hug deficient, Ronan?”</p><p>“Do you want a hug?” Noah asked, sounding genuinely concerned. “Should we group hug?”</p><p>“Don’t fuckin’ touch me. I won’t warn you again.”</p><p>Noah still looked deflated, but only for a moment. The song changed and he disappeared from Blue’s side so that he could go turn it up.</p><p>“Why’d’you ask, anyway?” Blue barely gave him a second to respond before her tone became insufferably more grating. “Oh, wait. <em>Aw. </em>Aw, shucks. Ronan, look, you’re sometimes <em> almost </em> not the worst--“</p><p>“Not what I fucking meant. Fuck you, tiny and loud isn’t my type. <em> You </em>are not my goddamn type.”</p><p>“That’s actually very comforting. Edgy and sulky isn’t <em> my </em> type.” Blue tilted her head and considered it. “I think I would maybe say that it’s--“</p><p>“Gansey!” Noah interrupted, a little louder than necessary, as he hustled back over them. Ronan immediately started squinted at Blue, smiling like trouble, to try and gauge how she reacted to Noah’s kickass timing. He was very entertained by how she sputtered and glared at him. </p><p>“What <em> about </em>Gansey? What do you--?”</p><p>“He’s calling Ronan, look,” he clarified. The music had stopped, since Noah unplugged the phone from the stereo so that he could pass the device to Ronan. Ronan uncrossed one arm to swat it out of his face and he nearly knocked the thing to the dirt.</p><p>“Forget it. I never pick up.”</p><p>“That’s awful, man. I bet he’s worried,” Noah frowned. He showed Blue the screen. “You answer, then.”</p><p>She held up her hands and leaned against the Mustang. “Well, hold on. Wouldn’t it be weird for me to answer Ronan’s phone?”</p><p>“No shit. ’Specially ’cause it’s weird for <em> me </em>to answer my own phone.”</p><p>But Noah had already accepted the call and stuck the damn thing on speaker.</p><p>“Hello, Gansey,” he said, pleasantly speaking into the phone. “You don’t know me. Here’s Blue!” He moved to try and shove the phone at Blue.</p><p>“There, he knows we’re alive,” Ronan said. “Just hang up.”</p><p>Noah pulled it back. “Ronan is also here. And me, I forgot to say that I’m Noah. Okay, now here’s Blue.”</p><p>She protested when he pushed it into her hand, but nevertheless took the phone. Gansey’s voice crackled through the speaker.</p><p>
  <em> “--nan? Jane? This signal -- awful, you’re -- king up. What are you two, er, three -- ing?” </em>
</p><p>(Ronan scrubbed a hand down his face, finding his sudden sobriety surprising. To remedy his state, he cracked open another beer, certain that Gansey heard the noise.)</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i highkey love blue + ronan + noah being bros, bro. noah has a lil baby crush on blue and i haven’t decided how to address that just yet but noah is IMPORTANT dang it!! also, blue rollerskating and noah skateboarding? i love that for them.</p><p>thank u for reading gang, comments mean everything to me! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. the nighttime was loud</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>blue thinks about gansey and adam thinks about ronan and gansey thinks about blue and ronan thinks about adam and noah wants blue to be happy</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>How long they’d been talking, she couldn’t say.</p><p>“I can take care of myself just fine,” Blue huffed into the phone.</p><p>Gansey laughed. “I certainly don’t doubt that, not for a moment. I’m really more concerned for Ronan. I promise.”</p><p>“He’s fine too, Gansey. <em> I </em>promise.”</p><p>“Okay. Okay, thank you for talking to me.” He paused. “May I call again tomorrow?”</p><p>“Ronan?”</p><p>“Ah. No, you, Jane.” He sounded sheepish. Her grin was lost to the darkness. </p><p>“I know. Just wondering if you’ll ever say Blue.”</p><p>There was silence, a sweet and treacly silence, a wildflower honeyed silence.</p><p>“Good night, Blue,” he practically whispered, easing through the pause, softly and with humor -- and her treacherous heart stammered at the drag of the single syllable.</p><p>When she finally walked back to Noah and Ronan, it was with a smile.</p><p>“Fucking nasty,” Ronan droned, needling her immediately, “you had phone sex with him on <em> my </em> phone, didn’t you? Gimme that shit.”</p><p>Blue had half a mind to throw it at him, and if she were more drunk and could have afforded to replace it or repair a scuff on his car, maybe she would have. “Don’t be sick,” she snapped, “I just convinced him that we were fine and promised that nobody would be driving tonight, you nightmare.”</p><p>“Whatever, maggot.” </p><p>She grumbled something insulting as she slotted herself between the two boys. The three of them were leaning against the back of the BMW, looking over the cliffside, down at the trees and up at the stars -- and if she lost herself enough, it was up at the trees and down into the stars. Blue tipped her heavy head so that it rested on Noah’s shoulder and, with a soft huff of a laugh, he patted her hair.</p><p>“Tired?” He asked.</p><p>“Yeah, of Ronan,” she responded.</p><p>Ronan stepped on her foot. “Real original.”</p><p>“You know, looking at all these trees makes me think we should go camping,” Noah cheerily suggested. “Or maybe to the beach. Or a lake. Would that be camping? Well, either way.”</p><p>“I like that, actually,” Blue said. “Though it might be hard to convince Adam to take time off.”</p><p>“The fuck is his deal, anyway?”</p><p>Embers flared in her chest as she looked at Ronan. Blue was already a volatile person and her tongue was only further loosened by the schnapps. How many more times would she argue with Ronan about Adam? “‘Scuse you? What’s that supposed to mean?”</p><p>“It means I don’t get why he gives such a shit about school,” he explained, blunt and plain and probably scowling. She couldn’t see.</p><p>“Because he chooses to,” Blue defended. “Because he wants to.” The word she almost used was <em> needs.</em> She barely caught herself before it slipped out.</p><p>“Sounds like bullshit.”</p><p>“So why don’t you ask him yourself then, huh?”</p><p>“Maybe I fucking will.”</p><p>Blue hummed, as if that was what she wanted to hear -- and it kind of was. Though she had built something of a friendship with both Gansey and Ronan after getting over her initial reluctance, Adam had been much more reserved with Ronan. Gansey had just barely begun to make it through. “Good,” she said, “you should.”</p><p>“Probably shouldn’t be that aggressive about it, though,” Noah added. “I feel like that won’t play out well.”</p><p>Blue waved her hand. “It’s fine, Ronan was a dick when they first met, anyway. He’s established himself.”</p><p>“He said I was a dick?”</p><p>Now, Ronan either said ‘who’ or ‘he.’ Though Blue hadn’t heard him clearly, she was surprised that he asked at all. She was surprised that it <em> mattered</em>. Her mind flitted to a string of possible conclusions that could have been drawn from that sentence alone, since it came from Ronan, of all people.</p><p>“Well, no,” she said. “I just figured that you were. Why?”</p><p>“Because I prefer the term shithead, is why. Fuck off.”</p><p>Noah swirled his bottle, checking how much was left in it. “Adam’s really pretty. Blue showed me a picture of them from high school.”</p><p>“Oh, that was from four years ago. He’s even prettier now.” And it was true! She had the dim epiphany that, in the same way all four of the boys had affinities for cars, they were all aesthetically striking individuals. </p><p>“Aw, you are too!”</p><p>Blue responded to Noah’s compliment with a laugh and a side-hug. When she peeked over at Ronan, though, he was downing the rest of his beer -- probably trying to provide a reason for his silence. Something giddy was alight inside of her, a result of her suspicion that Ronan was interested in Adam. Her mind buzzed with all of the implications it carried: that Ronan cared, that he thought Adam was pretty (then again, who didn’t?), that Ronan <em> cared. </em></p><p>Blue slumped back against Noah, eyes half-lidded and mouth half-smiling. She had no intentions of asking him, but Blue wondered if Gansey knew.</p><hr/><p>In contrast to what they were up to, Adam’s Friday night was another late shift at the library. </p><p>Usually, the silence was peaceful and made it easier to concentrate -- only for once, it was almost too much because it was just too little. It was nearly impossible to access the effects of his lukewarm coffee, and more concerning, he couldn’t locate the usual tightness in his heart that propelled him through his schoolwork. In its place in his chest, there was a new ache, and it wore a dangerous smile.</p><p>Adam still didn’t know <em> what </em> to think of Ronan, but he <em> did </em>think of Ronan. </p><p>Perhaps far too much.</p><p>He thought he had Ronan Lynch figured out at first: he was an asshole to people who were just doing their jobs and he did things that got him arrested. He dressed head-to-toe in black, he cursed more than anyone else Adam knew, he had a shitty attitude, he was <em> rich </em>-- what else was there to know? What else did he need to create an informed opinion? Adam thought he was done. Instead, he was potentially done for.</p><p>Gansey said he had painstakingly raised Chainsaw in their apartment earlier that spring. And the first time they met, Ronan was unpromptedly bringing Gansey a book he must have forgotten. Then Adam found out that he was the <em> babysitter </em>for his Latin professor’s daughter -- him, of all people, father to a baby bird and trusted babysitter of a small child.</p><p>So basically, he didn’t have Ronan figured out at all. </p><p>For a person like Adam, not being able to figure something out was deeply troubling. He knew that he wanted answers; the problem was that he didn’t know what questions he was supposed to ask. Let alone how to ask them. When to ask them. <em> If </em>he should ask them. Or if Ronan would even answer them. </p><p>Frustrated, Adam turned his textbook back two pages. He'd been wasting his invaluable time by reading without reading, all because Ronan Lynch was a puzzle he couldn’t solve. There was no assigned reading, no Power Point presentation to take notes on, no crash course, no tests. Adam wanted to learn, but how could he, when it meant learning in a way that he had no idea how to do? How could someone learn to <em> learn? </em></p><p>The words on the pages before him tried to wrap themselves around his brain. They were unsuccessful, and his eyes unfocused.</p><p>Adam wondered what shapes the dark lines spilling over Ronan’s shoulders carved into his back. He wondered how the muscles there would tense if he traced them with his fingertips. He wondered what cold blue eyes looked like when they were warm, what he was like when he was alone with Chainsaw or Opal, what else there was to discover when the barbed wire and electric wiring was peeled away.</p><p>...Instead of continuing to study, Adam reluctantly allowed himself to wonder.</p><hr/><p>Gansey, on the other hand, had been wondering of Blue since they met. That evening was no exception. </p><p>After she hung up, he laid in his bed with his cellphone pressed to his chest and his gaze on the ceiling. To his surprise, his eyelids grew heavy -- and good god, how long had it been since he felt that? When was the last time he experienced that lull, that gentle slipping of consciousness? The feeling was so foreign that he startled himself out of it. Then, as if he were just waking up from a deep slumber, he slowly allowed his bones to readjust themselves to gravity. He slipped his glasses off of his face, set them aside, then closed his eyes.</p><p>Gansey felt a strange combination of rested and restless; fast asleep but wide awake. Had it been because he talked to Blue? Right before he called Ronan, he’d been shuffling things around his room -- moving stacks of books, pinning maps and notes on different walls, rearranging his desk -- as if something physical was disturbing his ability to sleep. When Ronan never showed up, he called, supposing that it was a mental anxiety about his friend keeping him awake, not his chronic insomnia. </p><p>Gansey still didn’t know what it was, but he did think that he found something more helpful than the unopened bottle of melatonin on his nightstand. </p><p>Or someone, rather.</p><p>Within moments, Gansey fell asleep.</p><hr/><p>Ronan reclined in the driver’s seat of the BMW; Blue and Noah fell asleep in the Mustang. Unsurprisingly, the two were ready to tap out at just about the same time, but sleep didn’t come as easily to Ronan. He wondered if his father ever slept in the car like this, then he chased away that train of thought by pursuing something only marginally less messy.</p><p>He closed his eyes and pictured Adam at their picnic earlier in the week -- Adam deftly shuffling tarot cards, flipping them over and spreading them out and pointing at symbols. Ronan didn’t give a shit about tarot, but he <em> did </em>like watching Adam’s hands.</p><p>It was <em> awful</em>, how much Ronan wanted to hold one, memorize it, feel and map the calluses that he definitely developed through working on cars. And Noah and Blue had been right: he <em> was </em>pretty. He was something beyond simply attractive and Ronan’s ailment worsened when he remembered his laugh. Though he only heard it once at the diner, the sound bounced off the walls of his skull in a looping, haunting echo.</p><p>Ronan wondered if Adam knew how to drive manual or not. He thought about what it’d be like to teach him. Would it be trashy and lame to show up at the garage he worked at? He could -- <em>eugh</em> -- ask Blue. He almost started talking to her about it, but it had felt fucking weird and he bailed.</p><p>Ronan’s face was almost peaceful. Alas, when the thought of action crossed his mind, his features twisted.</p><p>Damn Adam Parrish, wherever he was, whatever he was doing, and whoever he was thinking of.</p><hr/><p>The stars melted once faced with the sun and Friday night eventually gave way to Saturday morning.</p><p>When the three of them were finally awake, Noah tailed Ronan and the BMW out of the peaks. Blue had woken up enough to put on her seatbelt, but within minutes, she had curled back up in the passenger’s seat and fell asleep again. Noah kept the stereo to a soft hum out of courtesy as he drove and recalled the events of the night prior: peach schnapps, arm wrestling on the trunk of Ronan’s car, a surprising amount of Irish rock and Taylor Swift, and a video of a bunch of ducklings in half of a watermelon filled with water, swimming and eating at the same time.</p><p><em> (“That shit is,” Ronan had said when Noah showed him the post. His voice was empty of emotion, but every word was bleeding with genuinity, “the second goddamn cutest thing I’ve ever fucking seen. </em> My <em> bird is the first.”) </em></p><p>In time, they made it back to town. Ronan said goodbye by sticking his middle finger out of his window before he peeled off the main road -- in response, Noah snorted and flashed his lights. Blue stirred beside him, and when he glanced over, she was bleary-eyed and squinting through the windshield. </p><p>“What a prick,” she mumbled, half-heartedly raising a middle finger that Ronan definitely would not be able to see. <em> Thought that counts</em>, he supposed, so he smiled. </p><p>He liked Blue’s company -- he liked how she made him feel, because what she made him feel was <em> seen. </em>Sometime ago, the two of them met at a local skatepark; Noah was on his board and Blue was on a pair of quads. One both-guilty collision later and they were sitting on the cement and apologizing, and then apologizing turned into laughing, and then laughing turned into friendship.</p><p>He just hadn’t known that he was aching for something like her friendship until he found it.</p><p>“It was cool running into him. I’m glad we met,” he said, and he meant it. Maybe it was because they were drinking, but as prickly as Ronan had initially been, Noah felt like he became a little more open as their night went on. Especially when it came to showing them pictures of Chainsaw, the raven Ronan looked after (kidnapped<em>, </em> Blue accused, lacking her usual fire). Granted, there was Ronan’s occasional threat to throw him either out of a window or down some stairs, but it <em> seemed </em>to be in good humor. Mostly. </p><p>“Oh, I agree,” Blue yawned, shifting to sit upright. “But he’s still a massive prick. And my mouth tastes awful.”</p><p>“I have gum!” He blindly grabbed for a packet and handed it to her.</p><p>“Noah, this is bubblegum.”</p><p>He didn’t see an issue. “Yes.”</p><p>Blue snorted and tucked the package back into the console compartment. “I’ll just brush my teeth at home.”</p><p>“Your call,” he hummed. “Hey, do you wanna skate with me tomorrow?”</p><p>“Could we do Monday? I’m--busy, tomorrow.”</p><p>Noah glanced over, having heard the way she hesitated. Blue was looking at herself in the visor mirror, removing her clips and combing through her hair with her fingers. “Monday’s cool,” he said, then he mimicked her pause. “What’s--tomorrow?”</p><p>Blue gave him a momentarily <em> Ronan-y </em>look before dumping her barrettes into her bag. “Last night Gansey asked me if I’d go with him to lunch.”</p><p>Gansey remained a mystery to him -- he didn’t know what he looked like, but he did know that he wore shoes that Blue didn’t like and had a real proper way of speaking. Noah’s chest tightened when he thought of how long Blue had been on the phone with him the night before. He dismissed the feeling almost as soon as it surfaced, however, by grinning for her and poking her leg. “Ooh, lunch with Gansey.”</p><p>“Not like <em> that,” </em>she said, but the way she ducked her eyes said it was probably, maybe, actually kind of like that. “It’s just lunch.”</p><p>“Whatever you say, Blue. Send me the videos from last night?”</p><p>“You bet. I got one of you trying to teach Ronan how to kickflip.” Blue laughed and took out her phone. Noah quietly hoped Gansey made her laugh like that a lot, because it’d be a shame if he didn’t.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank u guys SO much for reading!!! support means so much to me and it makes me so fkn happy to know what people like this lil fic! every comment makes me smile + so excited to write more.</p><p>also, a couple of things!!: i’m changing my titles into other honeywater lyrics because it feels Right. also, now that relationships are more established, i’m slipping a little more into prosey writing, so i hope you guys enjoy :’) and lastly, pls connect w me on tumblr (faeriestickers) if you’re interested in chatting or telling me things you’d like to see in the story &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. will you send me away?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>ronan is accepting that he’s interested in adam but kavinsky knows exactly what to say to provoke him; adam ends up with more questions and he’s tired of it; gansey is just doing his best</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>content warning! kavinsky is present in this chapter and his history with ronan, though not entirely fleshed out, is parallel to their relationship in the dream thieves — alcohol/drug mentions + kavinsky-y topics and prodding ahead!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sometimes, Ronan Lynch had moments of consciousness that confused him. They made him ask himself, <em> was I awake before this? </em> or <em> what was I dreaming about again? </em> or <em> I woke up here, didn’t I? </em></p><p>That was how he felt when he found himself in his car, cutting through a yellow light that turned red just as he crossed into the intersection. The shift under his hand and the clutch under his foot were such grounding, familiar things that he couldn’t tell how his attention drifted to begin with. </p><p>He was going to see Adam, he remembered, and it was an equal parts daunting and dazzling reality.</p><p>After one too many nights spent wondering when Gansey would rope them all into more group shit, Ronan had decided to stop waiting. He spent a little under a week working up the nerve to visit the auto-mechanic that Adam worked at -- no horseshit excuses, no cover stories, no cowardice. Ronan asked Blue for the name of the place, and that had been that. </p><p>But then he actually got there, and a wretched <em> tck-tck-tck </em>started up in his head, like a frenzied metronome narrating his heart rate.</p><p>At the sight of a coke white Mitsubishi Evo parked in the lot, all of Ronan’s nerves about greeting Adam transformed into his spite for one Joseph Kavinsky and his bunkass white car and his bunkass white sunglasses. Their history was another ink stain on an already-murky past, but as much of a blip as Kavinsky was in Ronan’s life, he was a blip that just kept rearing its ugly head. A crude joke in a bleeding sitcom grasping for the end. It was street racing, it was drinking too much, it was questionable decisions with questionable company. It was Ronan trying to silence his pain with anger and adrenaline, because anger was easier to feel and adrenaline was much more fun.</p><p>It was still easier. It was still fun.</p><p>And as much as Gansey hated it, it was still something of an open option.</p><p>Kavinsky was leaning against a workbench and Adam was nowhere in sight. Ronan slammed the door on the BMW much harder than necessary, but he didn’t storm into the garage -- a stomping stride would be giving Kavinsky too much power, like an admission of weakness. Ronan settled for curling his hands into fists in his jacket pockets. The last time they crossed fire with one another was several weeks ago, when Kavinsky and his dogs baited Ronan into a dumbass pig pen for shits and giggles. It was a taunt, a dare, a challenge.</p><p>Ronan had yet to retaliate. That had been the night he properly met Blue and Adam.</p><p>(Adam. As he approached, Ronan tried to remind himself that <em> Adam </em>was around somewhere.)</p><p>“He--ey,” Kavinsky drawled, head cocked and teeth bared in a grin. He carelessly tossed a wrench back onto the table and swept his hands out to either of his sides in a grand gesture. “Look at’cha walking free, Lynch. How’s it feel to be exonerated? Dick-Dick-Dick gotcha out, didn’t he?”</p><p>Ronan smiled, thin and sharp and cold. To match, his eyes were a sub-zero temperature. “How’s your dad this week, K?” The story seemed to change every time he bothered to ask.</p><p>“Same place as yours.”</p><p>Niall Lynch was not in Jersey. Joseph Kavinsky was one of four people who knew that.</p><p>“Reconsider joining him in Jersey.” Then the cruel humor that was just in his voice was nowhere to be found. Ronan jerked his head in the direction of the street. “Beat it, dirtbag.”</p><p>Kavinsky pursed his lips with the kind of mock-innocence that would make Gansey’s best synonym for <em> annoyed </em>inadequate for how Ronan felt. “I’m not doing a damn thing wrong,” he claimed, holding out his hands.</p><p>Ronan’s voice, per usual at the beginning of these things, was steady. “I don’t give a fuck. Just get lost.”</p><p>Kavinsky stepped forward. (A taunt, a dare, a challenge.) “Cute, but like <em> I </em> told <em> you, </em>I haven’t done shit. Why so threatened?”</p><p>
  <em> Because Adam. </em>
</p><p>The <em> tcking </em>got louder. It was a countdown.</p><p>“Because you’re not allowed to peddle your fuckin’ benzos here. Says me.” The evenness in his tone tilted into jaggedness.</p><p>“Who said shit about sleeping pills? Was it me? No, really.” Kavinsky demanded, then paused, then his toxic waste grin slowly bloomed across his face again. “Oh, damn. Dick is fiendin’ for something that’ll really knock him out, isn’t he? I knew he’d be looking for me. Tell him I can see him <em> real </em>soon.”</p><p>Kavinsky wasn’t as dangerous as the wise old men in Ronan’s life thought him to be, because half of what made Kavinsky a threat was his ability to say all the right (wrong?) things. He knew how to get a reaction. To Ronan, that made him wickedly similar to Gansey -- but where Kavinsky always intended to start as many fires as possible, Gansey was raised to only ever put them out. </p><p>Kavinsky’s eyes gleamed with the implications of his thinly-veiled threat. Ronan’s nostrils flared -- his jaw clenched -- he lunged forward -- the <em> tck-tck-tck </em>--</p><p>It happened quickly: Ronan had snatched Kavinsky by the collar of his shirt with a single hand and yanked him forward. Kavinsky just kept smiling, clearly delighted by Ronan’s reaction. He wanted a show -- he always wanted a show. Ronan didn’t know who was taunting, daring, challenging who.</p><p>“Keep Gansey out of it,” he snapped, slicing his syllables.</p><p>Kavinsky sneered. “Shit, I sure would fucking like to, but you’re kind of obsessed with him, man.”</p><p>He opened his mouth.</p><p>“Ronan.”</p><p>It wasn’t a question and it wasn’t a rebuke. Just a simple fact.</p><p>He closed it.</p><p>Kavinsky looked at Adam first; Ronan watched him turn his head as a salacious smirk stretched over his features. Bitterness rippled through him, then he dared to look, too. Adam had emerged from a door in the back of the garage. He was a mess -- his jeans were black with grease, his shirt was in a similar state, his hair was swept back and out of his face, his arms and his hands and his <em> hands-- </em></p><p>A mess. A glorious and dreamy one, sullied by Joseph Kavinsky’s lidded eyes and dirty mouth.</p><p>“So you two know each other? Now this shit makes sense. Right on. Fuck, Lynch. You coulda just told me that the pretty boy was off-limits. Or do you and Dick call him your passion project? Or is it pet project. You know what I mean, like a fuckin’ chari--“</p><p>All --</p><p>The wrong --</p><p>Things.</p><p>The <em> tcking </em> finally stopped when Ronan wrenched his wrist around and ripped Kavinsky towards the ground. It was a demonstration of the most restraint Ronan could muster, because if he didn’t put space between them, he would have sent his fist flying into Kavinsky’s temple -- and god, fuck, it would have been so much more satisfying if he did just <em> swing. </em>Kavinsky stumbled, caught his footing, and barked another laugh. Ronan didn’t look at Adam. He didn’t want to look at Adam.</p><p>“That’s it? You soft son of a bitch. Dick’s got your collar on tight and your leash pretty short these days.”</p><p>Ronan’s mouth twisted and he was horribly aware of Adam’s presence -- it was like his food was threatening to touch. If he punched out Kavinsky like he wanted to then and there, it would be like breaking the dam entirely. It was bad enough that Gansey inserted himself in the fray at the height of Ronan’s feud with Joseph Kavinsky, and now Adam? Before anything could even happen? Ronan drew his tongue over his teeth and under his lip; he slid his eyes over Kavinsky, then to Adam, then to the Mitsu to the BMW back to Adam and then Kavinsky again.</p><p>This, he knew. This was familiar territory.</p><p>“Let’s let the cars talk first,” Ronan finally said, “then I’ll get out and kick your ass a second time.” He was burning. He turned on his heel and headed for his car and he was burning. Behind him, so was Kavinsky. </p><p>“Atta boy. Welcome back.”</p><p><em> So much, </em> he thought, <em> for seeing Adam. </em></p>
<hr/><p>Charity case. That’s what he was going to say before Ronan cut him off: charity case.</p><p>Adam Parrish was a smart person, but he still didn’t know what he had seen. </p><p>One moment, he was wrapping up a transmission job on some guy’s obnoxiously souped-up Evolution. The next moment, he was running a card. After that, there was Ronan, holding his customer by the shirt. Then Ronan, throwing Joseph sideways; then Ronan, looking at Adam. Then the BMW growled out of the lot and the Evo followed, leaving Adam alone with his questions.</p><p>The first one hadn’t changed since he met Ronan Lynch: <em> who was he? </em></p><p>The second one, however, was new: <em> who was he to Joseph Kavinsky? </em></p><p>The third, he’s always grappled with: <em> what do you want, Adam? </em></p><p>He thought about it throughout the rest of his shift, and while he scrubbed away the grease and oil during his shower, and he just barely managed to table it while he tried to study. It wasn’t until well after dinner, much later that evening, that his focus fully and finally failed him. </p><p>He was tired of many things, but he was especially tired of idling. Adam wanted to know if Ronan was done waiting too, because after he showed up at the garage, either vanity or intuition planted a suspicion of interest in the back of Adam’s brain. Vanity was fueled by the words <em> pretty boy</em>, as much as he resented them, while intuition was intuition. Intuition also told him that Ronan wasn’t counting on Joseph being present when he showed up, but intuition wasn’t as reliable as an actual answer.</p><p>(The third question. He wanted to lay this issue to rest, so he could stop wasting energy thinking about it. He wanted to put in the time now so that he could save more of it later. This was an investment, he told himself, and it made perfect economical sense.)</p><p>Adam didn’t like the concept of middle men -- he grew up as a middle man and it was an exhausting thing. It was easier to cut out the liaison and get things done himself. That was just one of the many reasons why he refused to turn to Gansey for answers concerning Ronan Lynch; another was that he wouldn’t ever ask anything of Gansey, on principle; another was that Gansey was too close to Ronan to begin with. Adam didn’t need a golden stepping stool to get what he (thought he) wanted, but he did know when he needed to recognize a ladder rung. </p><p>Yes, there was a difference.</p><p>Sometime after midnight, he pulled himself up that rung and he got Gansey’s number from Blue, because he knew she’d been talking to him. Then another rung. There was a quick conversation, and where Gansey was pleasantries, Adam was to the point.</p><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em> It’s Adam. Sorry to reach out so late. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Is Ronan in? </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> Good evening, Adam! It’s a pleasure to hear from you -- unfortunately, he is not, but he does tend to return around this time. Is something amiss? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I was going to wait up for him anyhow, so I can always relay a message </em>
</p><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em> Could you let me know when he is? </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> Of course </em>
</p><p>
  <em> If matters are pressing, you’re more than welcome to swing by now. I’m not doing anything terribly important</em>
</p><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em> If you don’t mind </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> Nonsense, I offered. We can save the chatter for when you arrive! Our address is thus. See you shortly </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>He felt like their apartment was exactly where Gansey wanted him to be, and Adam didn’t know how he felt about giving into Gansey’s wants, no matter the circumstances. He considered this at the time, but he agreed all the same. Adam already calculated how much time he was losing by pursuing this and he’d decidedly brought a book with him to compensate.</p><p>Gansey and Ronan’s residence ended up being right on the night shuttle’s line. All Adam had to do was flash his student ID at the driver and sit and read for a few stops -- then, in barely any time at all, he was headed up to their complex. To his surprise, it looked like any other building in town. He’d been half-expecting a gated community with lush foliage and a fountain and a pool or, at the very least, fancy doorknobs. There were no fancy doorknobs, but it <em> was </em>a big place.</p><p>Gansey looked different behind closed doors, Adam noted. Aside from the fact that he was in plaid lounge pants and <em> not </em>a polo shirt, he also had less-than-perfect hair and glasses on. Adam found that he liked this Gansey more, and he felt -- knew -- that Blue would, too. He was just as cordial, though, and he welcomed Adam into the apartment with a sunny expression and a sunnier tone.</p><p>“Can I fix you a coffee? Tea?”</p><p>Adam blinked. “It’s nearly one in the morning, isn’t it?”</p><p>Gansey moved to check his watch, only he wasn’t wearing one. He seemed to take Adam’s word for it. “I suppose you’re right,” he said, no less warmly. “Please, make yourself at home.”</p><p>Adam thanked him, but did no such thing. Instead, he looked around as politely as possible: there was a living area and four doors. One was the bathroom and another was shut -- one was closed and covered with a delinquent’s decoupage of what looked like police tickets -- the other was left both plain and ajar. A warm yellow glow spilled out of it. There was a TV set and several gaming consoles across from the sofa, said sofa didn’t match the ottoman or the arm chair, and the coffee table in the middle of it all had a little plant and stacks of books on it. A bookcase in the corner boasted a strange collection of odd things. Somehow, it was both everything he expected and everything he didn’t.</p><p>He wondered what Gansey’s room looked like. He wondered what <em> Ronan’s </em>room looked like. He did not ask. He wondered if he should have asked Blue to come along as a buffer. Adam thanked Gansey for having him and claimed the ottoman, his book in his lap. Gansey sat across him in the armchair.</p><p>“It’s been some time, now that I think of it,” Gansey started. “How have things been?”</p><p>“The usual,” Adam replied. “School and work.”</p><p>Gansey nodded. “Treating you well, I trust?”</p><p>Adam nodded back. “And yourself?”</p><p>“Well, I--”</p><p>His phone rang in his hand, effectively cutting him off. Gansey seemed to wake up, despite already being awake -- he stole a glance at his screen and played it off by silencing his ringer and looking up again. Adam relished in the moment where Gansey’s manners appeared to clash with his wanting: he was hosting company, but he clearly wanted to answer his phone. Adam could tell, so he held up his book in mercy.</p><p>“I don’t mind at all,” he told Gansey, and the battle continued on his face for a moment. Then, with an apology, he hastily excused himself into his room, and Adam settled to keep waiting for the front door to open.</p>
<hr/><p>“Hello, Jane,” Gansey said, sliding the door shut behind him. Her calls were nothing like clockwork. They were unpredictable in terms of timing and they only ever lasted a few minutes at a time, but without fail, a part of Gansey waited for her to call every night. He’d yet to call her first, for some reason, but she didn’t seem to mind deciding when they spoke. Neither did Gansey.</p><p>“Hi,” she responded. “I’m surprised you answered. Isn’t Adam around?”</p><p>Gansey belatedly realized who gave Adam his number. When the text came in, he didn’t question it; he was just happy to hear from Adam. “He is,” he admitted, guilty. “In the other room.”</p><p>“In the other room!” She repeated. “I meant metaphorically, like on another line or text thread. He’s there right now?” </p><p>“He is,” he said again, walking a circle around his bed. Gansey took a postcard from his desk and affixed it on his wall. “But I can always spare a moment.”</p><p>“I’m flattered, yet offended for my friend,” she replied. “Kidding. He’s reading, isn’t he?”</p><p>He smiled. “You’re not spying on us, are you, Jane?”</p><p>“Actually, I am. Adam is reading in another room and you’re on your bed.”</p><p>“A good guess, but no,” Gansey laughed. “I can be, if you’d like.”</p><p>When Blue didn’t reply, he began to wheel backwards and rewind what he’d said in his head. What was it, what was it? What did he say wrong? Where was the offense, and how could he--</p><p>Oh. <em> Oh. </em></p><p>Gansey’s cheeks flushed.</p><p>“That’s not what I--“ he started, at the same time she said “I--“</p><p>“Terribly sorry, Jane,” he said, his voice two-thirds of what it normally was. Gansey palmed the back of his neck. She was laughing now, obviously unbothered, but embarrassment still scorched his skin.</p><p>“I wish Ronan overheard that. The hell he would bring.”</p><p>“Then I feel infinitely lucky that he’s not home to eavesdrop,” Gansey admitted, but to his dismay, Blue momentarily went silent again. He pursed his lips, gave her a few healthy seconds, then summoned his voice again. “Is something the matter?”</p><p>“No,” she responded, “just thinking. Noah -- you talked to him, briefly -- suggested the group of us getting together soon. Halloween, maybe?”</p><p>Gansey pressed his thumb to his mouth in thought. Henry Cheng came to mind, alongside a hollered ‘<em>whoop whoop, Gansey Boy!’ </em>and a good clap on the shoulder and scrubbed hair and bumped knuckles. Once upon a time in high school, Gansey was captain of an elite varsity rowing team, and though he completed a year on Warren’s collegiate team, he’d withheld from completing try outs a second time. Cheng toughed out one day of conditioning with him before withdrawing and it had been enough to make them friendly. Perhaps not quite friends, but friendly enough that Gansey received invitations to every event at the Litchfield House -- the most dignified fraternity to never exist on Greek Row.</p><p>“I may know of a function, if we’re interested,” he told Blue. “Although, only one kind of costume is permitted and it is, in fact, a toga.”</p><p>Blue had a smirk in her voice. “Good night, Gansey.”</p><p>He didn’t know what kind of answer it was, but it fluttered through him anyway.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ronan has SO much to sort through and i am very excited to write it all out!! thhhhhank u guys so much for reading. love u all tons. i appreciate The Fuck out of you!!! comments + kudos are all so so so appreciated :’)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. now i’m staring at a stranger man than i have ever been</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>ronan gets back and adam is still over — they talk, and then they stop talking</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sorry for not updating so late, thanks for ur patience :-)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They raced. It was quick (as all races were) and then it got ugly (as it always did), but Ronan still left with two wins under his belt. He also left with acid still melting off of his tongue. And with insults still stuck between his teeth. And the last shivers of his adrenaline slowly drip, drip, dripping away.</p><p>More affronting to the senses were his other takeaways from the evening: bruised knuckles, blood caked under his nose, a scraped-up cheek. Joseph Kavinsky had a swing like a motherfucker; Ronan Lynch had a swing like fire and brimstone. Fire and brimstone got him his second win when Kavinsky decided to run the fuck out of his mouth instead of his engine.</p><p><em> He’s nothing like you</em>, Kavinsky said, all bloody teeth and matches flicked dangerously close to puddles of gasoline. <em> He’s nothing like us. </em>And Ronan wasn’t sure if that were actually true or if he just didn’t know Adam, but it particularly bothered him because it was coming from Kavinsky.</p><p>Despite it all, despite how K’s words seared themselves under Ronan’s skin, his mood still wasn’t the worst it had ever been. Was it genuine? Or was it his adrenaline allowing him to repress the consequences of everything, like it always did? He didn’t know, but even thinking about Gansey confronting him when he got back home hadn’t hampered his high. Thinking about Adam was a different matter, however, so he tried not to think about Adam. </p><p>(Ronan would reflect more during Sunday mass, surely. It just wasn’t Sunday yet and he was free to race and fight and drink as he damn pleased ‘til that lone holy hour.)</p><p>When he got home, it was with the plan to shrug off Gansey, then dull his senses with a few beers and loud music. He shoved the front door open and kicked it closed with a backwards swing of his foot. Ronan threw his keys more so <em>at </em>the credenza than <em>onto </em>the credenza, then he shucked off his jacket and dropped it at the foot of the ancient ass coat rack Gansey got them. Gansey made good use of it, especially since it was getting even colder, but Ronan was more haphazard about his clothes. He scrubbed a hand over his head and--</p><p>And when he looked up, there was Adam.</p><p>Ronan blinked, slowly and deliberately. </p><p>So much for not fucking thinking about him.</p><p>Of all people, Ronan didn’t expect <em> Adam </em>to be in his living room at nearly half-past one in the morning. Gansey, he definitely expected, because Gansey had shit sleeping habits and always made a point of waiting up for him. He would also suspect Blue, maybe, because she and Gansey had been chatting it up almost every fucking night for the past weeks. But Adam? No, definitely not. Especially not after how shit went down earlier that day.</p><p>But there he was; there was Adam.</p><p>Ronan had yet to look away from him, having abruptly stopped just after the door. The vice versa was also true: Adam’s lips were parted, seemingly stuck in place as he took Ronan in. Ronan had faltered in that first second of realizing his presence, but then the adrenaline lapped over his nerves again and he felt daring -- he felt goddamn <em> grand </em> about the fact that Adam stopped in -- so he curled his lip into a thin smirk. </p><p>Maybe it was vain to assume that Adam came over because of him. Ronan didn’t give a shit. Adam closed his mouth, expression unreadable, but the air was undoubtedly charged. Ronan’s usually sharp edges felt a little blurrier, a little more blunted--</p><p>Then Gansey interrupted the silence with his fretting, because he was also in the room.</p><p>“Ronan,” he sighed, disappointed and concerned and chastising all at once -- it was said the way one would tell a dog to drop what it had in its mouth. Ronan’s eyes scrolled over to where Gansey was seated on the arm chair, adjacent to Adam on the ottoman. “You pugnacious thing.”</p><p>Ronan sneered. “If you’re gonna insult me, use words from this century, man.“</p><p>“Ronan,” Gansey said again. His face puckered with distaste. “I am not insulting you. I’m--“</p><p>“Judging my decisions,” he interjected, relentless and flippant. He crossed the room and threw himself onto the couch, all limbs spread out, stretching and rude and entirely inconsiderate.</p><p>Gansey pushed up his glasses. “I was going to say ‘concerned.’”</p><p>“I’m alive, aren’t I?”</p><p>“In the interim, certainly. Though you <em> are </em> looking battered.”</p><p>Ronan smiled, vicious and caustic. “I wonder what that makes Kavinsky.”</p><p>“You should see about cleaning that up,” Gansey suggested, breezing past what was implied. He gestured to his own nose with two fingers moved in a circle. “We have company.”</p><p>Ronan dragged the back of his hand under his nose, then pulled it back to inspect what had come off: a faint, ruddy streak of crimson and a flake or two of blood. He wiped it on the leg of his jeans, uncaring. “It’s dry,” he informed Gansey, “and Parrish doesn’t give a fuck. So, why the tea party, kids? If it’s goddamn studying, I’m fucking off.”</p><p>Gansey’s expression creased, like a brand new button down being wrinkled, then the exasperation disappeared, like a brand new button down being dry cleaned. It became apologetic when he exchanged looks with Adam. Then, he picked his mug up from where it sat on the coffee table, and rose to his feet. “I’ll let you two talk,” Gansey said.</p><p>It made Ronan certain that Adam had come over for <em> him</em>. His heart swallowed the idea whole.</p><p>Naturally, Ronan raised his fist up to Gansey as he got up. Gansey looked hesitant, but after a moment, he very carefully knocked his knuckles against the back of Ronan’s hand, clearly mindful of the bruising against pale skin. He bid them a good evening and retired to his bedchambers, a king walking away from an unruly counsel and a reluctant guest.</p><p>There was moment of silence between the two of them when Gansey left. Ronan’s eyebrows were raised and his head was tilted and his ribs ached, not with the echoing impact of Kavinsky’s swings and kicks but with something else, something hopeful, something <em> impossible</em>.</p><p>Adam didn’t break eye contact either. The sobering blue of his irises remained electric.</p><p>“You stopped by today,” Adam eventually said. “And left pretty quickly.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Ronan responded. It was a frustrating answer, he knew -- Adam didn’t like it very much, based on the way he briefly drew his brow down. That meant that it was a perfect way to respond.</p><p>“Well, did you need something?”</p><p>Blue told him that she hated when he replied to questions with questions of his own. That didn’t mean that he’d ever stop.</p><p>Ronan tipped his head.</p><p>“Do <em> you </em> need something?” </p>
<hr/><p><em> What do you need</em>, <em> Adam? </em></p><p>A full night of sleep, and then some more. More customers at the garage. Another ream of binder paper. To finish a bunch of problem sets, to find that pencil he lost, to finish those leftovers in the fridge before they went bad. To stop feeling sick with his father’s voice in his head when he saw someone bruised. To be at home, where he’d be either working or sleeping -- to not be at Gansey and Ronan’s, where he was wasting time. </p><p>He needed to stop wasting his time with such fleeting things like <em> people. </em></p><p><em> But what do you </em> want, <em> Adam? </em></p><p>A straight answer to his question, a reason for why he was so hung up on every little one of their brief interactions, an explanation for the stutter in his heart rate. Something he could work with, something to ease him out of the dark, something that would clue him in to where he stood with Ronan Lynch. </p><p>Better yet, more than just a clue -- Adam wanted something concrete.</p><p>He steeled himself by curling his toes, an imperceptible tensing in his shoes. Adam’s stomach wheeled at the idea of slugged punches, raised hands, windmilling fists and his heart lurched at the idea of finally, <em> actually </em>talking to Ronan. </p><p>At the very least, Ronan was much more willing to sit down with him than Adam thought he would be.</p><p><em> Do you need something? </em> Ronan asked.</p><p><em> Before anything else, I need to know you,</em> Adam’s pulse tapped.</p><p>“I want to know why you came.”</p><p>Ronan didn’t respond, the asshole. But Adam pressed on.</p><p>“If it’s your car, I can take a look.” Adam didn’t actually think it was his car, though -- not with how the BMW screeched out of the lot for a race. Unless Ronan was really <em> that </em> reckless. Judging by his dried bloody nose and the light bruising around the apple of his cheek, this was not unlikely.</p><p>“My car is fine,” he defended, pridefully hostile. It was a response, but it wasn’t the one Adam wanted. Ronan was holding out on him and he knew it, felt it, quietly resented it.</p><p>“If you don’t want to tell me, just lie and I can leave.”</p><p>“I never lie.”</p><p>Adam leaned forward, filing that statement into his memory. “So you went to a mechanic because?”</p><p>Ronan moved forward and rested his elbows on his knees, as if one-upping how Adam ever so slightly hunched forward. It was a game of chicken -- only Adam didn’t like to play games. “Because I felt like it.” </p><p>Adam played along anyway. </p><p>He swallowed thickly, suddenly aware of how neither of them had yet to falter in their stares. Adam’s gaze flicked down to the blood dried above his cupid’s bow, but when they did, they ended up on his mouth, too. When they seemed to <em> quirk up, </em>Adam quickly looked back up to Ronan’s eyes.</p><p>(This was strictly an economic use of his time. An investment now, so that he could work and study unbothered and unburdened with wonder later. Adam wanted answers, not answers and something more. Just something concrete.)</p><p>“Why did you feel like it?” </p><p>Ronan took his time answering again. This turn, he moved on the couch, languorously slow, so that he was sitting across from Adam. Closer to Adam. The space between them was infinite and suffocating, far too much and far too little.</p><p>“I thought about seeing you,” Ronan said, “so I did.”</p><p>Were Adam’s cheeks stinging with the ghost of his father’s hand, stirred up because Ronan had just gotten back from a fight? Or because Ronan was looking at him like <em> that? </em></p><p>Probably for the first time in his life, Adam moved without thinking.</p><p>Something else, something he never let himself think about, had stepped into his body and took control of his hands. They moved up to Ronan’s face -- slowly, slowly, slowly, so that Ronan could stop him if he wanted to. He didn’t. So Adam’s fingers curled into his palm, and his first knuckle touched Ronan’s chin -- his thumb wiped at the dried splotch and trickle of blood under his nose. Then he opened his hand and touched two fingers to the bruise on his cheek. Then his palm followed through and pressed itself flush to the side of his face.</p><p>In a devastating and exhilarating shock, Ronan didn’t flinch -- he closed his eyes. </p><p>This Ronan was the Ronan that raised and bonded with a baby bird, the Ronan that babysat his Latin professor’s daughter. This was a Ronan that Adam’s only ever <em> heard </em> about -- a Ronan that mostly existed in Adam’s mind in theory. </p><p>The air was heavy as Adam leapt back into control of his body.</p><p>Despite Adam’s calluses, Robert Parrish’s anger and hatred burned the skin of his hand. Adam sharply pulled it back. He planted his feet into the ground and scraped the ottoman backwards. </p><p>“I should go,” he murmured. </p><p>Without looking at him again, Adam collected his book and left, his hand aching with the memory of Ronan Lynch.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i’m like damn what if u guys kissed .... but then i’m also like damn :) you guys aren’t gonna kiss ;)</p><p>i am considering adding the tag “gratuitous amount of moments charged with yearning and tension.”</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. and this hope of mine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>gansey talks to blue about what’s been going on with ronan — then halloween eventually rolls around and the time before the henry’s toga party is spent at ronan and gansey’s apartment. also you know the scene in captain america tfa where peggy is like [touch] when steve first gets swole? basically that HA</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Her tree was a brilliant image of orange and yellow. Now that it was late October, the leaves were in the middle of falling.</p><p>“I don’t know what else to do,” Gansey sighed. He swept a hand over the dry grass beneath them and Blue watched his expression get all pinched up. “He’s been out late every night for the past week. He returns sober, thank god, but <em> still.” </em></p><p>Blue considered him. Sitting under the shade of the sycamore and not in the direct afternoon light, something about Gansey was different. She couldn’t place all of it, but she was sure that it had to do with the fact that Gansey was opening up to her about his situation with Ronan. </p><p>Said situation was this: a week ago, Adam asked Blue for Gansey’s number then came over to talk to Ronan, only Ronan was still out. He eventually got home, albeit with a bloodied nose and an attitude. Gansey left the room, Adam and Ronan talked, then Gansey heard Ronan’s door slam.</p><p>What happened between them was a mystery, but it was definitely affecting Ronan negatively. Adam never brought anything up with her, unsurprisingly, and Ronan didn’t tell Gansey anything either. Things had consequently become tense at their apartment, so Gansey needed to talk and he asked Blue to listen.</p><p>She agreed.</p><p>The tricky part of the situation was the fact that Blue had her own suspicions of what happened between Ronan and Adam. It was a line of thought that danced around how Ronan asked about Adam when they hung out with Noah and how <em>Adam Parrish</em> took the <em>time</em> to visit Gansey and Ronan’s apartment, just to talk to him. She felt like there was a tiny something there, something that had the potential to blossom if they chose to let it -- but despite her curiosity, it was ultimately none of Blue’s business. It wasn’t her place if Adam was intrigued by Ronan, or if Ronan thought Adam was pretty, and definitely not if something went wrong that night.</p><p>And that meant that she wouldn’t share her hunches -- and they definitely existed, just only in her brain -- with Gansey.</p><p>(Oh, <em>Gansey </em>-- she knew that he wasn’t used to being in positions of powerlessness. Blue suspected it when he couldn’t figure out how to apologize to Adam and she was witnessing the discomfort in real time once more. Gansey was less like a fish out of water, though, and more like a sovereign travelling into a village that didn’t care much for his rule.)</p><p>“I don’t think there’s anything else you <em> can </em>do,” she said, and Gansey looked at her, doleful. She knew it wasn’t the response he was hoping for, but if he wanted someone to say whatever he wanted to hear, he shouldn’t have -- wouldn’t have -- picked her. “You already tried sitting down to talk to him about it, which is the best anyone can do. Maybe you just need to give him time to figure out whatever he’s going through.”</p><p>Gansey was clearly unsatisfied with passivity. Probably because it wasn’t his favored course of action. “Or, perhaps -- I don’t suppose that you could try to talk to Adam, could you? How close are the two of you?”</p><p>She shrugged, both in response to his suggestion and to how he dismissed hers. “Closer than you are to him, but that would make things worse. I’m not interested in meddling and I know Adam wouldn’t like it either.” </p><p>“It’s not meddling, it’s--” Gansey waved a hand. “Damage control.”</p><p>Blue raised her eyebrows. There it was. “Emphasis on control?”</p><p>“Emphasis on <em> damage</em>.”</p><p>“Gansey,” she frowned.</p><p>“Jane,” he frowned back.</p><p>They frowned at each other. </p><p>Blue pinched a fallen amber-hued leaf between her fingers and twirled it. “You know that you’re not responsible for fixing Ronan’s mistakes, right? I feel like you don’t.” </p><p>Gansey’s response -- or rather, way of responding -- surprised her. “Pardon me. May I ask what makes you so certain that Ronan is the one in the wrong? What if Adam had upset him, and not vice versa?” </p><p>He was so goddamn polite about being offended that she almost couldn’t tell that he was upset by her words. It was in his posture; the way he sat up and squared his shoulders. And it was also in his slightly patronizing drawl. It reminded her of his spell of frustration with Adam at the diner, but Blue wasn’t having it -- the back of her neck warmed and defensiveness cooked in the hollow of her chest. </p><p>It was only a low simmer, but those kinds of feelings always, always, always threatened to boil over in Blue Sargent.</p><p>“Because <em> you </em> made it sound like <em> you </em> think he’s making mistakes by being out at night,” she responded, pointed and curt and, as she sometimes tended to be, just a bit mean. “Do you want my opinion, or do you just want somebody to validate meddling?”</p><p>Gansey’s shoulders dipped a little more and he went quiet, so Blue thought that he found her response appropriately scathing. Unfortunately for him, even though he seemed to have stepped back, she wasn’t going to follow.</p><p>“You should give Ronan, a grown man, a curfew. Is that what you want to hear?”</p><p>“No,” he feebly asserted. It was forceful, but not strong enough to be a complete interjection. </p><p>“Then I’ll tell Adam that you told me to tell him to apologize to Ronan for something that I have business knowing about. How about that?”</p><p>“No,” he repeated, eyes focused elsewhere.</p><p>“Then here’s what I really think,” Blue said, finality in her tone. “I think that if you want to do right by Ronan, you ought to butt out and let them sort through it on their own. Or wait for one of them to ask you to get involved.”</p><p>She would be there for Adam if he asked her to be there, but so far, he hasn’t. And that was fine.</p><p>If the autumn breeze wasn’t already making her fringe fwip against her forehead, her sharp huff would have disturbed it instead. Blue frowned again. Gansey frowned again, too. Only this time, while she frowned at him, he frowned at her spinning leaf. Then, for some reason, he closed his eyes. A needle threaded with guilt embroidered a pattern onto her heart at how torn he looked. But Blue ripped out the stitches and resolved not to speak until he did.</p><p>She wasn’t made to try and fix someone else’s problems by being a yes woman, or by rolling her words through sugar or by drowning them in honey -- Blue was a spoonful of salt and cough syrup, meant to be swallowed by those who could tough it and hacked up by those who didn’t.</p><p>...After a moment of terse silence, Gansey looked up and managed a slow, <em> strange, </em>small smile. Blue squinted at him and tried to decide what kind of smile it was: a plastic smile, meant to placate her? Or an authentic one, genuinely thankful for her input?</p><p>“If matters between them don’t improve by Halloween,” he eventually said, tasting his words, cautious like he was wading into murky water or fumbling for a light switch in the dark or closing his eyes while she aimed a bow and arrow at an apple on his head, “would you still accompany me to the Litchfield event?”</p><p>She pursed her lips. </p><p>So it had been an authentic smile.</p>
<hr/><p>It was easy to get Noah on board. She told him that there was a Halloween party and he was in, then she specified that it was a <em> toga </em> Halloween party and he was <em> in-</em>in.</p><p>Adam, however, was going to be a different story. It was ten in the evening when she brought him a coffee. He was working the front desk at Laumonier, as he did almost every night.</p><p>“No drinks inside the library,” Blue greeted, setting the cup onto the counter, “but we’re technically outside of it.”</p><p>Adam looked up. Dusky eyelashes flapped at her twice as he processed her presence and her offering.</p><p>“There was a Keurig in the lounge I was studying in,” she explained, scooting it closer to him. <em> (I didn’t pay for it.) </em></p><p>“Thanks.” Adam accepted it with a grateful tip of his head. <em> (Because you didn’t pay for it.) </em> “Is this shameless pandering? What do you want?”</p><p>Blue snorted at the dry humor in his voice. He wasn’t wrong, of course -- she <em> did </em> bring him coffee to preface her matters of business. “Gansey’s extending an invitation to a Halloween party,” she said, tapping the pads of her fingers on the table. “Come with us, if you want?”</p><p>“Blue,” he started. She knew what was coming, though, so she kept talking.</p><p>“I know you’re probably working Friday night, but I wanted to give you the option.” She smiled, she shrugged. Then, the dicey part. “Noah’s coming, so right now it’s the three of us. I don’t know about Ronan yet, but I feel like he will, since Gansey’s asking him.”</p><p>His expression didn’t shift in the slightest. Blue, despite herself and her conversation with Gansey, was paying attention. If something <em> did </em>happen between him and Ronan, he did a damn good job with his poker face.</p><p>“Thank you,” he said again. “I’ll consider it.”</p><p>And that was as much as she was going to get.</p>
<hr/><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em>noah and i are on our way</em>
</p><p>
  <em>did ronan say anything?</em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em>Not exactly</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He’s currently playing a video game in the living room, so the fact that he’s even home is</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Something?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’m hopeful</em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em>of course you are</em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em>Of course I am what</em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em>hopeful</em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em>Is that a compliment?</em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em>see u soon</em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em>Oh, Jane</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em>hi adam</em>
</p><p>
  <em>if you wanna come we have extra sheets and we’re figuring out these loserass togas at gansey &amp; ronan’s rn</em>
</p><p>
  <em>:)</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>Ronan was spending the late afternoon of Halloween on the sofa with a package of Twizzlers and some violent game or another on the TV. Gansey, on the other hand, was fretting about the state of their apartment. The place wasn’t decorated for the holiday or anything of the sort, but there was an overflow of books that he didn’t have space for in his room and their fridge was stacked with old takeout that needed to be tossed and did he order enough pizza? Were there napkins and plates? Did--</p><p>The doorbell rang. </p><p>“Door,” Ronan yelled unhelpfully, eyes not moving from the screen. Gansey shot him a look and found him grinning, sharp and satisfied and with half a string of licorice between his teeth. </p><p>It was nice to see Ronan’s smile again, sharklike as it was. It’d been a long week and a half without it.</p><p>When he refocused, Gansey crossed the room to answer it and let Noah and Blue in. It was the first time he was meeting Noah and it couldn’t have gone more smoothly: Noah offered Gansey a fist and he happily knocked knuckles with him. The real dilemma was that he didn’t know how to greet Blue -- most of their conversations had taken place over the phone. Also a fist bump, maybe? Naturally <em> not </em> a handshake. Shoulder clapping was reserved for a specific demographic that Blue was thankfully not a part of. Was a hug too forward? Was there something to be forward about in the first place?</p><p>“Hello, Jane,” he settled. She smiled.</p><p>“Hi,” she responded. She lifted a tote bag and shook a sealed mason jar. “I have accessories and safety pins.”</p><p>“I have more togas,” Noah chimed in. In his arms were a folded stack of white sheets. </p><p>“Excelsior,” Gansey grinned. “Please, make yourselves at home. There’s food on the table and Ronan has Twizzlers.”</p><p>“Fuck you and fuck off,” Ronan called out, still on the couch. </p><p>“Hey, Ronan,” Noah held up a peace sign that Ronan didn’t look up to see. He only grunted in response, but Noah still walked over to check out what he was playing.</p><p>“Snake,” Blue said as she walked inside. </p><p>
  <em> Snake? </em>
</p><p>“Maggot,” Ronan grumbled.</p><p>
  <em> Ah. </em>
</p><p>“Are you coming with us tonight?”</p><p>“Fuh-huh<em>--huck </em> no, bro. Screw that noise.”</p><p>Gansey shrugged at Blue. She smiled at him again, sending his heart quietly aflutter.</p><p>“Oh, boo,” Noah jeered. He had already managed to get ahold of one of Ronan’s Twizzlers. “C’mon, man.”</p><p>“Very lame,” Blue agreed.</p><p>“Uh, yeah. Cheng fuckin’ is.”</p><p>Blue looked at him. “Cheng?”</p><p>“Our host for the evening,” he clarified, before gesturing to her jar. “So do you know how to make a toga?”</p><p>“No, but I can knit a dress, make overalls without a pattern, and I can do impressive things with a safety pin,” Blue boasted, eyes twinkling. “How hard could it be?”</p>
<hr/><p>Apparently, rather hard.</p><p>It was fun at first -- they had pizza and Blue borrowed one of his journals to sketch out some concepts of a no-sew, no-cut toga while Ronan and Noah battled it out on a video game. She was wonderfully talented with a pencil, Gansey learned, and it was an embarrassing thought, but he wanted to save her sketches in his notebook.</p><p>(“Sign it,” Gansey joked, “so I may have an autograph to boast about when your career inevitably takes off.</p><p>“I make clothes for myself,” she snorted, “I don’t have an interest in dedicating my life to making them for other people.”)</p><p>After they ate and were situated, Noah volunteered to be Blue’s mannequin. It hadn’t been hard to wrap a sheet around him and make it look like a drapey white dress over some shorts -- making it look good and making it secure turned out to be another thing. And Blue was too stubborn to sacrifice looks and security for mobility, or mobility and looks for security, or security and mobility for looks.</p><p>There seemed to be no winning, but Blue Sargent proved admirably tenacious.</p><p>(“I don’t care if we end up late,” she said, safety pins held in her mouth as she stood on a chair to fasten fabric over Noah’s shoulder, “we’re having the best togas at the party or <em> else.” </em>)</p><p>Then, one and a half pizzas <em> and </em>hours after they started, they still had no solid togas. It was entirely because they just kept messing around.</p><p>There were licorice slap wars and flying almonds and Blue’s safety pin jar got knocked over at some point. Noah and Blue read all of the notes on the tickets Ronan had taped to his door and Gansey showed Blue some of his favorite odds and ends in the living room bookcase. There was laughing and Noah did comedic sales pitches to make Ronan laugh too and everyone tried to beat each other in video games for a while. It was fun and loud and Gansey almost didn’t want to leave for Litchfield, just because he was perfectly happy to celebrate Halloween with them in his apartment.</p><p>He only regretted that Adam wasn’t with them.</p><p>But eventually, when they got back to toga pinning, they were on something of a time crunch. Gansey suggested that they try to use a YouTube video tutorial.</p><p>He held up his phone to a busy Blue. “It seems like this particular style is popular. And fairly straightforward, actually.”</p><p>“Yeah, right. Everyone else is probably using that one. Maybe <em> you’re </em> used to uniforms and looking like everyone else, but I’m not.” She hopped off the chair and started to unwrap and rewrap Noah’s sheet.</p><p>“She’s having more fun now than she will at the party,” he told Gansey, grinning and sticking out his arms as Blue instructed. She was yet again loosely wrapping a sheet folded in half around his waist. That part, she had down pat.</p><p>“Potentially true,” Blue hummed. “Gansey, a pin, please.”</p><p>He passed her one. She fastened it at Noah’s hip, then swung the rest of the sheet over his shoulder. She began fussing with the back and gathering the fabric into a single tank top-style sleeve.</p><p>“Well, so long as you don’t mind the work, I suppose all is well.”</p><p>“Hey!” Blue got onto her toes and braced herself on Noah’s shoulders to peer and point at Gansey. In good humor, Noah scrunched down and laughed when she smacked his arm for crouching. “It is not <em> work. </em>We are having <em>fun</em> while preparing for a <em>party</em>.”</p><p>From the couch, Ronan made it obvious that he was rolling his eyes. “Way to make it sound like work.”</p><p>“I will stab you.”</p><p>“You and what knife? You got yours confiscated a long ass time ago, twerp.”</p><p>“I have <em> several </em>safety pins and I--”</p><p>“Well, I’ll be, Noah. Your toga looks top-shelf,” Gansey interrupted. Blue and Ronan’s banter was typically a little lighter than <em> stabbing</em>, so <em> stabbing </em>talk had made him a little nervous.</p><p>Noah gave him a finger gun as he inspected the swooping folds of his ensemble. “Way to go, BS.”</p><p>“BS!” Ronan howled, earning another icy glare that silently promised a safety needle stabbing from Blue.</p><p>“Not so fast, you haven’t done a single jumping jack,” she clucked. “We don’t know if this will hold the whole night.”</p><p>Noah bounced around for a moment, hopping from foot to foot. “I could kickflip in this, Blue. It’s solid. Thank you!” He gave her two thumbs up and turned them sideways for Blue to punch.</p><p>“You bet. Now <em> please </em>beat Ronan in that awful game, you’re the only one who gets close.”</p><p>Noah saluted her, Blue saluted back -- then she picked up another folded flat sheet and turned to Gansey.</p><p>And what was going to happen slowly dawned on him.</p><p>For her to properly get a toga arranged, Noah had stripped off his shirt and Blue’s fingers skirted over his skin as she worked. That meant that if Gansey was also going to get her help--</p><p>He desperately willed his cheeks not to burn, as if he actually had command over something like that.</p><p>“Okay,” she said, starting to shake out and refold the sheet. “I think I already know how I’ll do yours.”</p><p>“Right,” Gansey nodded. His throat was a little dry as he undid the few buttons on his polo. Ronan -- curse his shitheadery, but also bless his good mood -- wolf whistled and Gansey managed to glare at him. Without looking at Blue, he reached behind him to pull his shirt up and off, then he neatly folded it up and set it aside.</p><p>It wasn’t that he was self-conscious. Gansey had a weak sense of vanity, but he did know that four years of rowing in high school had treated him kindly and he had maintained his health well enough. It was just the idea of Blue’s fingers skimming over his collar, skimming over his back that made him nervous. He couldn’t dare show it, though -- not without making things <em> awkward. </em></p><p>So, he steeled himself. Blue approached him and he smiled at her and she rolled her eyes and he smiled wider, finding it surprisingly easy to do so.</p><p>“What?” She demanded, squinting up at him. It looked like she was trying to fight a smile, too.</p><p>Gansey shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”</p><p>“You’re smiling.”</p><p>“Am I?”</p><p>“You are.”</p><p>“You are, as in you are both making me sick. I’m gonna fucking hurl,” Ronan grumbled.</p><p>“Ka-boom! Gotcha!” Noah whooped.</p><p>“You motherfucker--“</p><p>Gansey and Blue had both looked over at the two of them, only to end up looking back at each other at the same time. They shared a laugh and a lock of her hair fell against her cheek and god, how his fingers itched to tuck it behind her ear for her. She did it herself, though, and then she held up the sheet again.</p><p>“Okay, serious now. Let’s wrap this up.”</p><p>“That was--”</p><p>“Hilarious?” Blue grinned.</p><p>“Suggestive,” Ronan said, at the same time Gansey said “Regretful,” at the same time Noah said “Hilarious.”</p><p>They started by wrapping the folded sheet around his waist. Gansey tensed when Blue stooped to the ground to be level with his hip. Her fingers brushed his skin as she fasten the fabric with a couple of pins, but as quickly as she got down, she was thankfully back up again. Blue gathered up the excess and tossed it over his shoulder, back-to-front. Unlike Noah’s toga, however, Blue had released enough fabric from the shoulder so that it swooped around his upper arm. Small fingertips pressed cloth in place against his shoulder blade, knuckles grazed skin as she slipped more pins into the sheet--</p><p>Gansey pursed his lips and searched for something other than the shameful electricity sparkling through him.</p><p>“Does your family celebrate Halloween?”</p><p>“You could say that.” She said it like it was funny, but he didn’t get the joke. “What about yours?”</p><p>“Not exactly,” Gansey responded. “I’ve never been trick or treating, or anything like that.” Was that pretentious? He didn’t know, but it was honest.</p><p>“Brutal. Costumes?”</p><p>“Do suits and masks for All Hallow’s Eve galas count?“</p><p>Blue snorted. “Definitely not.”</p><p>“Then regrettably, no costumes.”</p><p>“Double brutal.” She circled around him again so that they were face to face. Blue started arranging the front of his sleeve now. “Lift up your arm?”</p><p>He did so and she stepped back, eyes narrowed as she tipped her head and scrutinized her work. Then, she clapped twice. “Okay, you look good,” Blue said. Gansey knew she was talking about the toga but he still glowed. “Now to figure out--”</p><p>Blue crossed her wrists in front of her and peeled off her shirt -- Gansey’s breath quietly hitched as he politely looked away, towards the TV. He felt Blue glance at him.</p><p>It was a smoldering kind of glance.</p><p>Then the doorbell rang and Gansey thought his inward plea for something to shift the tone of the moment was being answered by the universe herself. He thought it might be trick or treaters prowling the apartment complex, as they’ve done before, so when he opened the door, he was reasonably shocked to find--</p><p>“Adam!”</p><p>(That, surely, must have gotten Ronan’s attention.)</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hello!!! thank u guys once again for reading. :-) please do tell me what u think in the comments, they really are inspiring !! &lt;3 i appreciate your time so much and i hope u are all being well xxx</p><p>man, i have a list of 75+ honeywater lyrics from all of their songs that i want to use as titles. is that crazy? to possibly write 75 more chapters of this? i think so. but u know what. i love all of these lyrics and i’m just gonna keep fuckin writing i don’t give a FUCK bro (i give so many fucks)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. all the little things, they make a mess of my head</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>😳 ronan thinking about adam &amp; adam thinking about ronan 😳</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>[ Kavinsky ]</p><p>
  <em>are u coming</em>
</p><hr/><p>[ Kavinsky ]</p><p>
  <em>r you coming</em>
</p><p>
  <em>u can bring ur pretty garage monkey</em>
</p><p>
  <em>or i can bring ur pretty garage monkey</em>
</p><p>
  <em>is he like ur pit stop bitch like in cars</em>
</p><p>
  <em>lmfao fucking cars</em>
</p><p>
  <em>fucker</em>
</p><hr/><p>[ Kavinsky ]</p><p>
  <em>shitstain fuckshit assfuck fuckhead</em>
</p><p>
  <em>coming y/n</em>
</p><p>
  <em>garage monkey coming y/n</em>
</p><hr/><p>[ Kavinsky ]</p><p>
  <em>ok skinhead party starts @10</em>
</p><p>
  <em>same place</em>
</p><p>
  <em>byos byogm motherfucker</em>
</p><hr/><p>On the TV screen, Noah’s character kicked Ronan’s character in the gut. It matched what happened when Gansey said ‘Adam’ because those two syllables made Ronan feel like he was actually kicked in the gut. </p><p>In those seconds, Ronan faltered and Noah landed a winning blow. In those seconds, Noah dropped his controller in victory, leapt to his feet, and called for Blue’s attention. In those seconds, Ronan lost the thing that was allowing him to avoid looking at Adam as Gansey and Blue welcomed him in.</p><p>He knew they invited Adam to the Litchfield party, but Ronan didn’t think he would show up to their apartment -- not after how eager he was to leave the first and last time he came over. It was as though Ronan was thrust back into the moment. Despite being a two-week old memory, it was also an admittedly fresh wound -- the calloused thumb against his skin, the dry and chafing skin pressed flush to his cheek, the muttered words in a distant voice, the front door opening, the front door closing. </p><p>When Ronan opened his eyes again, Adam had been gone.</p><p>But the difficult thing about how it happened, Ronan thought, was the fact that neither of them had done anything wrong. Over the course of the last weeks, Ronan couldn’t find it in himself to be pissed at Adam, who had been well within his right to leave. And turning his frustration towards himself was some self-deprecating bullshit that he was too goddamn grown for. What, should he have not sat closer, or something? Should he have not been honest? Fuck that, Adam wanted answers, so Ronan gave them to him. What happened already happened and he just had to live with it.</p><p>...Of course, ‘living with it’ meant not stewing in some stupid hope that he’d see Adam again by smothering them via street racing Kavinsky instead, but <em> whatever. </em></p><p>This time, when Ronan closed his eyes for double the length of a blink, he opened them to find Adam still in the room.</p><p>So.</p><p>Yeah, o--fucking--kay, then.</p><p>(Whatever, whatever, whatever.)</p><p>Ronan considered reaching for his phone -- it’d been buzzing in his pocket all day. He knew it was Kavinsky, seeing as the annoying ass texts had been coming all week, but Ronan also knew it would get Gansey’s attention. He decidedly refrained from checking it. Instead, he set his controller down and leaned back into the sofa; he dragged his gaze towards the four people standing in the space between the kitchen and the living room.</p><p>Noah was helping Blue stick some pins at her shoulder. Ronan wondered when Noah and Adam met, but he guessed that Blue had something to do with it. Gansey was beaming about Blue’s toga work and offering to bring Adam food. Blue glanced over at Ronan. Ronan gave her the middle finger. Blue scrunched up her face and stuck her tongue out at him. </p><p>Somehow, it was the most people they’ve ever had at their apartment.</p><p>Ronan’s phone hummed again.</p><p>“Will you be joining the festivities tonight, Adam?” Gansey asked, hopeful as always.</p><p>“I can help get you dressed, if you are,” Blue offered. </p><p>“It’ll be wicked if you came.” Noah pointed to the sheets. “We’ve got extra, ‘cause the buzzcut buzzkill isn’t coming.”</p><p>Ronan squinted at Noah and curled his lip. “Like fuck I’d wear a bedsheet. To a Bitchfield party, no less.”</p><p>“Ronan,” Gansey sighed, “be civil.”</p><p>“I am being perfectly fucking civil. I could be saying Bitchfield to their faces. Do you want that, Gansey?”</p><p>Adam glanced at him. Or maybe Ronan hoped that Adam glanced at him. It was fucking stupid either way.</p><p>(He didn’t <em> take </em> Adam’s hand and press it to his face. Adam did that. Adam <em> chose </em> to do that. And he also chose to step back. It burned, even if Ronan would never admit it, but Adam had absolutely been allowed to step back. Ronan wasn’t going to play chase because he wasn’t thirsty ass Kavinsky with his fucking texting. He was better than that.)</p><p>“I’m passing on the party, but Blue texted, so I thought I’d at least stop by here,” Adam finally said.</p><p>Blue tipped her head at him. “No library tonight?”</p><p>“Scheduling mix-up.” Adam shrugged and she nodded. It wasn’t convincing. Ronan didn’t know how schedules worked, given the fact that he’s never had nor wanted to work a day in his life, but still -- how did shit like that just get mixed up?</p><p>“Well, regardless, your presence is mightily appreciated.” Gansey returned from the kitchen with a plate stacked high with pizza and an open bottle of orange soda for Adam. “We’re happy to have you for as long as you’d like to stay.” </p><p>It sounded like Gansey was going to say <em> ‘right, Ronan?’ </em>But then Noah sat down again and picked up his controller, so Ronan tuned out of the conversation and started a new match.</p><hr/><p>It wasn’t long before Blue got her shit sorted and was ready to leave, though. When she walked out of the bathroom, it was with her hair clipped back with what looked like leaves just painted gold. Ronan <em> guessed </em> that she made the look seem a little less tacky and cheap, but <em> Gansey </em> had fully stumbled over the middle of his sentence when he saw her. Ronan rolled his eyes.</p><p>“You’re fumfering.” He pointed it out using a word that he learned from Gansey in true shithead manner. Gansey gave him a helpless, pleading look.</p><p>“You look real nice, Blue,” Noah said, putting Gansey’s fumfering into real words. Adam raised his eyebrows at her and cracked a smile as Blue thanked him.</p><p>Ronan looked away.</p><p>“You just had those leaves in a box somewhere, didn’t you?” Adam accused.</p><p>“<em>Pshaw,”</em> she scoffed, flapping a hand at Adam. “Of course I did. Gansey, Noah, do you two w--”</p><p>“I thought you’d never ask!” Noah grinned. He promptly scootched off the couch and sat on the floor while Blue clambered behind him, pins and leaves in hand, and she got to ruffling her fingers through his hair. That meant that the living room was this: Blue on the couch beside Ronan, Noah on the floor in front of Blue, Gansey in the arm chair, Adam on the ottoman. Again.</p><p>Gansey tried to recover from losing his train of thought over Blue’s costume (did those shits even count as fucking costumes?) by starting conversation, beginning with asking Adam about whether or not his family celebrated Halloween. Ronan stole a glance and what he found was painfully interesting -- he caught the second that the fine features of Adam’s face tensed. Then, more interestingly, Blue answered Gansey’s question instead.</p><p>“Adam celebrated with my family,” she said, looking up from Noah’s hair. “He’d come over and bake pie with my aunt and make fun of my pumpkin carvings.”</p><p>That earned a snort from Adam. “Never make fun of Blue Sargent while she has a knife in her hand.”</p><p>“You’re damn right, Parrish,” she said, stabbing a pin in his direction.</p><p>Gansey tilted his head at the pair of them. On his face, there was a smile that anyone else would describe as ‘soft,’ so it was a smile that Ronan would describe as ‘faceass as hell.’ “You two seem close,” he observed. “You said you went to high school with one another, correct?”</p><p>Adam nodded. “We were closest when we were juniors.” </p><p>“Gotta say, year was rough,” Blue grimaced. “To be honest, we haven’t really talked since we--”</p><p>Blue stopped herself short and gave Adam some kind of <em> look.</em></p><p>Adam shrugged.</p><p>Blue shrugged back.</p><p>Ronan bit his tongue from commenting on their weirdass silent weirdo conversations again.</p><p>“We haven’t really talked since we broke up,” Adam restarted.</p><p>And the room went silent.</p><p>Ronan was pretty sure that he knew what everybody was thinking, based solely on everyone’s faces. Blue was annoyed that it was apparently such a big deal, Gansey was surprised that they were still such good friends, Noah was unsurprised that Adam liked Blue at some point, and Adam didn’t really care for whatever was or wasn’t going through their heads.</p><p>Ronan, on the other hand, didn’t know what to make of the information himself. It almost wasn’t a surprise, given the way they interacted with each other, but something heaved in the pit of his stomach when he looked at Adam, then at Blue, then Adam again. Something weak, something unexpected, something too Blue to be green. Something he wanted to kill because it was butt ugly and he didn’t care enough to foster it.</p><p>(Despite his attempted apathy, Kavinsky’s party was an inherently bad idea, but it was starting to feel like a <em> good </em> bad idea.)</p><p>“Disgusting concept,” Ronan said, stabbing the silence with a savage knife. “Dating the maggot.”</p><p>Blue shot him a withering glare. “An even more disgusting concept: Ronan thinking about dating me.”</p><p>“Fantastic, so we’re on the same page,” he nodded.</p><p>“Yee haw,” Blue solemnly nodded back. She looked at Adam then back at him in a very pointed manner. “Very much on the <em>same page.”</em></p><p>Ronan scowled. What a little shit.</p><p>Gansey’s expression had finally untensed, but Ronan noticed how he looked once between Blue and Adam as they talked. Polite nervousness wasn’t a real thing before Gansey made it a thing. Like casual use of the word ‘excelsior,’ chewing mint leaves instead of gum, and wearing polos and boat shoes on the daily.</p><p>Ronan’s phone buzzed. Again. Again. From the corner of his eye, he felt like Adam looked at him. Then Ronan dared to look over, too, and--</p><p>Blue. </p><p>Not Sargent, but <em> eyes. </em></p><p>Blue, blue, blue eyes.</p><p>
  <em> Fuck. </em>
</p><p>Ronan could have let them swallow him whole -- they pulled him in, invited him to drown in them. Then Adam blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, they were focused elsewhere.</p><p>Ronan sank a little more into the couch.</p><p>He didn’t want to think into it. He didn’t want to put too much weight on it. He didn’t want to blow it out of the water. He didn’t--</p><p>Ronan’s phone rumbled again. </p><p>This time, he checked it.</p><hr/><p>[ Kavinsky ]</p><p>
  <em>btw</em>
</p><p>
  <em>even if u dont come</em>
</p><p>
  <em>ur garage cars pit stop monkey bitch might</em>
</p><p>
  <em>i inv him solo</em>
</p><p>
  <em>in person</em>
</p><p>
  <em>:) so :)</em>
</p><p>
  <em>see u tonight fuckface</em>
</p><hr/><p>When Joseph Kavinsky’s white Mitsubishi Evolution growled into the garage lot earlier that week, Adam immediately connected his presence with Ronan. Moreover, when Joseph Kavinsky invited him to a “substance party” on Halloween, Adam wondered if Ronan would be skipping Gansey’s Litchfield event for Kavinsky’s.</p><p>And since Ronan wasn't in a toga when he showed up at their apartment, Adam supposed that he would be.</p><p>Coming over was silly, coming over was a waste of time -- a thousand reasons why Adam shouldn’t have shown up at Gansey and Ronan’s apartment rolled through his brain like a tempest. Rationality and better sense pelted him like pins and needles of ice and water, but still, he went. The gray-blue of the skies in his head reminded him far too much of <em> his </em>eyes. Sharp and cruel like lightning, soft and light as a quiet pattering of rain.</p><p>He was so <em> confusing</em>. </p><p>Ronan had him fully confused for weeks now, actually, and the past two had been the worst of them all. Whatever that moment had been, it hadn’t left him alone -- he thought that knowing what Ronan wanted would make things better, but they had only made them infinitely worse. He’d been zoning out in class and when he was under a car and it was a problem that he didn’t know how to fix.</p><p>The curve of his cupid’s bow, under his thumb. His cheekbone, scraped with the echoes of a wailing fist, under his fingers. His cheek, warm like a summer storm.</p><p>Silly. A waste of time. A problem.</p><p>Adam unsteadily sipped at his orange soda, mouth puckering with the fizz and the thought of Ronan. From the corner of his eye, Adam watched him look at his phone, read something, lock the screen, then put it away. All in the span of a few moments.</p><p>...Against <em> all </em> better judgement, Adam thought that he maybe would skip the Litchfield party for Kavinsky’s. If Ronan went.</p><p>But god, it was a stupid idea, is what it was. </p><p>Adam had much better things to do than scope out some asshole’s party with a boy who he walked out on two weeks ago -- a boy who might not even want him around. It was still an idea, though, and when he looked at Ronan and remembered how touching him made a shock crackle through his spine (like an open circuit finally, finally, finally being closed), the idea felt more like a possible choice. </p><p>Then Gansey checked his watch and told Noah and Blue that they should be on their way. He got up off the floor -- Blue had been carefully twisting and pinning gold leaves into his hair -- and adjusted his toga, but Blue told him it was still crooked and so she smoothed out the folds at his shoulder for him. They smiled at each other and it was a sweet moment, Adam observed. Noah told Ronan he’d kick his ass in their game another day, Ronan sneered, Noah laughed. Adam watched them all with a curious eye -- this what Blue had been drawn to, what she and Gansey kept inviting him to partake in. </p><p>He was sort of starting to see the appeal.</p><p>“Would you like a ride, Adam?” Gansey asked. “Ah, not that you’re not welcome to stay, of course.”</p><p>Gansey glanced at Ronan. Adam wondered what it meant. (Again and again with the damn wondering.)</p><p>“The next bus should be here in about fifteen, but thank you,” he told Gansey. “Have a good time.”</p><p>Noah and Blue already had their arms around each other. “We will,” he grinned, “I ordered a Lyft. Should be outside in a minute.”</p><p>“A rideshare? I’m perfectly happy to drive,” Gansey said, frowning slightly. Blue barked ‘hah’ and Noah howled ‘sike.’</p><p>“That would mean you’d be driving home, so of course we’re not doing that. Someone’s never been to a toga party.” Noah’s voice was a sing-song and Blue laughed.</p><p>“And you have?” She asked.</p><p>“<em>Oh, </em>yeah.”</p><p>Gansey had a look on his face that said <em> ‘oh, goodness me, whatever have I gotten myself into?’ </em>Or something like that.</p><p>“Get’im home by twelve, Sarge,” Ronan said. “In the afternoon.”</p><p>“That’s hardly a curfew,” Gansey pointed out. </p><p>“Exactly.” Ronan’s grin was wicked and knowing. “Preferably hungover.”</p><p>“Oh, Ronan,” Blue tutted and put a hand on her hip. “Don’t you know? Gansey--”</p><p>Noah jumped in. “--<em>drinks</em>! He does not--”</p><p>Blue, Noah, and Ronan chimed the last part together. “--get drunk!”</p><p>Gansey flushed and defended the truth of the statement as the living room erupted into laughter. Blue comforted him with a touch on the shoulder and he touched his fingers to hers by crossing an arm over his chest, and suddenly, Adam couldn’t fight his smile.</p><p>Yes, there was appeal. There definitely was.</p><p>“<em>Whoop whoop, </em>Gansey Boy,” Ronan said, lazily twirling a finger around in the air.</p><p>“Good <em> night</em>, Ronan. Monstrous creature.” Gansey was ruffled; Ronan blew him a kiss.</p><p>Blue untangled herself from Noah and reached over to Ronan with a fist. “Later, snake,” she said, and Ronan bumped it. Then she stepped over to Adam and gave him a parting hug. The others said their goodbyes as well, then headed for the door, and the last thing Adam heard was Noah asking what <em> ‘whoop whoop, Gansey Boy’ </em>meant.</p><p>Gansey glanced over his shoulder as he closed the door behind him. His eyes slid between the two of them, almost cautiously. He said goodbye again, it clicked shut, then it was only Adam and Ronan.</p><p>The summer storm raged.</p><p>Adam swallowed his pride. His nerves. His pride. His reason, rationality, sensibility. His pride.</p><p>Slowly, he looked over at Ronan, feeling his heart begin to stammer with a newfound quickness.</p><p>“What,” he asked, “is a ‘substance party’?”</p><p>It was a mistake. Adam was smart and he could easily guess what it was, so he knew that it was something that he wouldn’t enjoy. He didn’t even drink, and he certainly didn’t mess with hard substances, making a <em>substance party</em> a pointless thing for him. The most he’s done was smoke a bowl in Blue’s room on the nights he slept over, since her family was okay with that sort of thing and Blue was safe company.</p><p>Ronan wasn’t safe. But maybe Adam was getting tired of safe. Maybe that was why he was so restless.</p><p>At his question, Ronan’s eyes -- sharp and cruel and soft and light -- got sharper and crueler and softer and lighter. Adam’s traitorous heart surged into his throat and it told him that it wasn’t a mistake after all. He was dizzy, he was light, he was warm.</p><p><em>(Maybe</em>, he thought, <em>this is the feeling that people used substances to find.)</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i’ve been a day behind on updates :( sorry gang! but also i’ve been thinking a LOT about them and i’m excited for these party scenes so maybe i’ll update again tonight..... we’ll see ;) thank u guys for reading! comments mean everything to me!!! when u tell me ur favorite lines my heart bursts :’))))))</p><p>also. lowkey? might throw in past blue &amp; kavinsky/tdp friendship. idk how it’ll work out but god can you imagine the drama</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. feeling younger, growing older</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>gansey, noah, &amp; blue go to henry’s toga party, ronan &amp; adam go to kavinsky’s substance party, and kavinsky may or may not have stolen the pig.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jesus God, it was a bad decision. It was stupid, stupider than every other option he had, it was -- a mistake. </p><p>Maybe.</p><p>Ronan already felt adrenaline slipping through his veins, encouraging the quick thump of his heart. The contented purr of his engine crescendoed with the scream of his tires as he blew through a yellow-gone-red light. It was the thrill of a race without the race; it was the looseness of a drink without the drink.</p><p>(And <em> oh, </em> how could a mistake feel like <em> that?) </em></p><p>Adam was in the passenger seat of the BMW and he was driving them to Kavinsky’s party.</p><p>Adam was in the passenger seat. In the BMW. To Ronan’s immediate right. Kavinsky’s party.</p><p>He grinned.</p><p>‘Proceed with caution’ his ass.</p><hr/><p>Noah saw that there was so much intention in everything Blue did -- from the way she took the front seat in their rideshare and talked with their driver about their evening to the way she stepped out of the car and looked up at the Litchfield House as he and Gansey joined her on the curb. It was with her head held high and her toga swooping over her bare shoulders and skirting around her calves. It was with pride and power and purpose.</p><p>Despite all of her intense intent, though, Noah knew that she didn’t intend on making being her friend both so easy and so difficult.</p><p>Her ensemble, despite being plain white like theirs, was very much Blue-ified. She still wore platform combat boots with paint scuffs and mismatched laces, and she still had colored clips in her hair, and her jewelry and purse were very much not in the Greco-Roman style. Noah thought she looked great and he was sure that Gansey agreed.</p><p>Gansey took point on walking them up to the house. A few people, all in togas, lingered on the porch. Noah’s senses were overloaded with the smoke cloud of the group sitting on the bannisters and chairs, but they greeted the three of them with happy faces and offers for hits. Gansey politely declined -- but <em> Blue </em> introduced herself, puffed on a joint, then passed it to Noah. He grinned and did the same before handing it back with a ‘thanks, man.’</p><p>Gansey looked surprised. Blue just took out a tube of lip balm and applied it as she gestured for him to step inside first. “I know my limits,” she said, sounding indisputably confident. Noah didn’t doubt that she’d be able to handle herself. “Besides, I’m always sensible. That bit never really goes away.”</p><hr/><p>“Do you go to these often?” Adam asked. He was staring out the window, watching the lights streak and dissolve past him as Ronan drove. He had to have bought the BMW for more than Adam’s ever made in his life, or <em> would </em> make in the next ten or twenty years. It was a bitter thing to think about.</p><p>“Hell no,” Ronan clipped through his thoughts. “I don’t fuck with Kavinsky like that. I don’t need to.”</p><p>Adam pondered what it meant. To <em> need </em>to be in with Joseph Kavinsky. His first guess was the drugs, but it was possible that there was more. Ronan seemed charged when he replied. </p><p><em> So why are you going now? </em> is Adam wanted to ask.</p><p>He didn’t.</p><p>Instead, he looked over at Ronan and his eyes followed his profile. Sharp. That was one of the words that could describe everything he did and was -- he was <em> sharp. </em> Adam considered how much time he must have spent aligning and realigning his edges into deadly blades on honing sticks.</p><p>He wondered if Ronan ever let the edges get dull.</p><hr/><p>“Gansey Boy!” A cheery voice cut through the din of the party chatter and music. </p><p>Noah glanced around the dim foyer -- the guests doubled as the decorations, witheveryone dressed in white and lounging in every possible corner. It was a sizable turn out, especially for an ultra-themed costume party on Halloween. The source of the greeting descended the stairs in a grand and dramatic sort of way, his arms stretched out to either of his sides.</p><p>“Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears!” Nobody was really listening except the three of them, Noah thought. “I come to introduce Richard! Campbell! Gansey! The Third!”</p><p>Blue’s smirk was a lethal weapon. “You did not tell us that your name is <em> Richard Campbell Gansey the--” </em></p><p>“Henry,” Gansey managed, something of a weak smile on his face as Blue collapsed against Noah’s side in a fit of laughter. “These are my--”</p><p>“Your friends, Romans, countrymen,” Henry interrupted, sweeping his arms out again as he ducked his head. “Henry Cheng. I am glad to see that you are all dressed for the occasion. A friend of the president is most certainly a friend of mine.”</p><p>“Blue,” Blue said, not letting a Third introduce her. “Blue Sargent.” They were all speaking a little loudly, given the music and the people. </p><p>“And Noah,” Noah added brightly, waving. He wondered what Henry meant by ‘<em>the president.’ </em> Regardless, Henry nodded at both of them.</p><p>“Blue and Noah, welcome to Litchfield After Dark.” He grinned and nodded for them to follow him through the crowd. Gansey did, then Blue, then Noah, though she reached behind her to hook a pinky through his so that they wouldn’t be separated. It made him smile. “The bar is here and the dancing is there, but the memories are to be made as you so please. So, please,” he glanced over his shoulder at them, “do make some.” </p><hr/><p>“Does Gansey know?”</p><p>“About?” Ronan flicked his eyes over at Adam.</p><p>“This.”</p><p>It was so unspecific.</p><p>“No,” Ronan replied.</p><hr/><p>The four of them ended up in some kitchen area, but it was an awfully large kitchen. The island counter was cramped with bottles and a bowl of ice and cups, some people were pouring a bunch of stuff into an ice chest, there was beer pong happening on a table, and Noah could see the massive living room and the door to the backyard. Bodies and bodies and heads and heads swirled around each other, bare shoulders brushing and white fabric swishing.</p><p>Blue touched Gansey’s arm. “Hey, Richard, you want a drink?”</p><p>“I’ll abstain for now, but thank you, Jane.” Gansey’s smile was feeble, but it was still a smile. Noah dropped his gaze, feeling like he wasn’t supposed to be watching them talk. Then Henry jumped into talking Gansey’s ear off about the whole ‘creating memories' thing, allowing Blue to slip away and stand in front of him instead.</p><p>“First one to find the--”</p><p>“Peach schnapps wins?” Noah’s smile returned and he offered her his arm. Blue laughed and looped hers through his elbow and they marched for the table.</p><p>He didn’t know why he felt so invisible when the two of them were talking -- Gansey wasn’t anything other than kind and Blue was Blue. She had been easy to be around from the get-go. Noah guessed that it was because he saw a little wistfulness and wonder in the way Gansey watched Blue, listened to Blue, talked to Blue. A quiet hope tugged at his heartstrings, playing a tune much softer than the party music.</p><hr/><p>Ronan broke the next turn of silence.</p><p>“Why the fuck do you wanna come to this, anyway?”</p><p>Adam didn’t know how to answer because he was still trying to figure that out for himself. Because Kavinsky said he should wreck a car instead of fix one, and he wanted to know what that meant? Because he wanted to prove that <em> running away </em> from Ronan had been a one time thing? Because Ronan was going?</p><p>Adam looked at Ronan.</p><p>“Why do you?”</p><p>“Touché, Parrish.”</p><hr/><p>Blue stood on her toes and squinted over the table. She reached across for a light orange bottle and brandished it to him when she finally got a hold of it.</p><p>“I win,” she beamed, passing it to him. “Are you having it straight?”</p><p>“Of course.” He poured his cup, then hers about halfway. “And you’re mixing yours?”</p><p>“Of course,” she echoed, already equipped with cranberry juice. Noah was already sipping as he watched Blue skim her fingers along more bottles for orange juice and vodka. “I don’t know how you handle how sweet it is.”</p><p>Noah shrugged and topped off his drink again. “Acquired taste, I guess. Do you think Gansey does this sorta thing much?”</p><p>“I doubt it, but I guess I’m not sure. Ronan probably does.”</p><p>“Makes me wonder why he bailed.”</p><p>“Because togas aren’t black and they’d ruin his image, duh,” Blue snorted. She raised her cup and Noah tapped his against hers. “Or maybe he and Adam are doing something tonight?”</p><p>“Ronan and Adam?” Noah raised his brows and thought about the two of them hanging out without Gansey. He hadn’t heard the two of them talk -- or ever, really. Granted, that night was the first time he’s been in the same room as them, but it was an interesting thought nonetheless. “Are they a thing?”</p><p>“Beats me.” A different question, then.</p><p>“Should we find Gansey?”</p><p>Blue nodded, slung her arm through his again, and Noah hushed the flip of his heart with a drink.</p><hr/><p>Adam didn’t like Joseph very much -- or Kavinsky, rather, as Ronan referred to him. He was loud and rude and sleazy, he carried himself with the entitlement of a despot. Adam had a piecemeal image of him, composed of their interactions at the garage when Adam worked on the Evo that one time and Ronan’s attitude toward him. It was stitched together by Adam’s inferences about his character.</p><p>Ronan didn’t say where they were driving, but Adam eventually recognized their destination as the lot-slash-field where the county fair would roll into town in the summer. During the other three seasons of the year, it was empty and unused and unwatered, but that night, lines of vehicles were haphazardly parked on the asphalt and dead grass and a mess of people were talking, sitting on trunks, dancing to the cacophony that was multiple car stereos playing different music. A firework went off, exploding into the dark sky in a crack and hiss and fizzles of color and light. </p><p>Adam blinked.</p><p>The BMW screeched into the lot. Ronan whipped the steering wheel to one side and the car responded by skidding ninety degrees in a dramatic, loud arc. They had all the eyes and Adam didn’t know how to feel about it, but his intuition told him that it definitely wasn’t a good thing.</p><p>Ronan didn’t say anything as he climbed out of the car. Adam didn’t ask him to say anything as he followed suit.</p><p>He felt a panic rise in his throat when he watched Ronan slam the door of his car and look around, presumably for Kavinsky. This wasn’t territory he was even <em> remotely </em>familiar with, but it was clearly comfortable for Ronan. And the last thing Adam wanted was to be an accessory, uncertainly trailing after Ronan because he didn’t know any more, anyone, or any better. </p><p>Adam had the dim realization that he had just put himself in the kind of situation he usually avoided getting trapped in: a situation where he was dependent.</p><p><em>You didn’t think, </em>he told himself, but it was with his father’s rasp. <em>You didn’t think.</em> <em>And now look what happened, because you didn’t think.</em></p><p>He swallowed it. </p><p>He’d be fine. He’d be fine.</p><hr/><p>When they found Gansey again, he was talking amongst a group of other boys with Henry. Clapped shoulders, scrubbed heads, knocked elbows. Noah nearly didn’t notice that he was with them, given how effortlessly Gansey blended in -- it had been Blue that tapped his shoulder and pointed and wheeled them in the group’s direction.</p><p>“Hey,” Blue greeted. She inserted herself into the ring without hesitation by squeezing between Gansey and Henry. When the sea parted as easily as a curtain, Noah stepped up beside her. ”You guys are talking about running for the Associated Student Union? I read up on the candidates for the Senate and I think that--”</p><p>Gansey and Noah looked at Blue, then at each other, with matching smiles. Of course she knew exactly what to say.</p><hr/><p>“Gansey’s dog!”</p><p>Kavinsky emerged from the shadows of the fairgrounds, newly illuminated by the headlights of various cars. He grinned, cheeks hollow and expression arrogant.</p><p>“Aw, shit. Check it, the dog brought the garage monkey. Are you Gansey’s, too, pretty boy?”</p><p>Adam’s eyes went cold. He didn’t look at Ronan, lest it get interpreted as a cry for help that he didn’t want.</p><hr/><p>They migrated to a corner of the living room. Blue was sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, Gansey and Henry were on the sofa, Noah was beside Blue. Both Gansey and Henry were fully sober -- Gansey because he was Gansey and Henry because he was the host, but they both sat with Blue and Noah anyway. They watched as she popped open a grinder and packed weed into a little green glass pipe.</p><p>Gansey, again, looked surprised. Blue glanced up and raised her eyebrows at him, expectant.</p><p>“Do you smoke, Gansey?”</p><p>He shook his head.</p><p>Noah had been fiddling with Blue’s star-printed lighter, but he gave it back when she stuck out her hand. “Have you ever smoked?” He asked.</p><p>He shook his head again.</p><p>Blue laughed, light and good-natured. “I thought Ronan would have been more of an influence on you, maybe,” she said, voice like windchimes, “but hey, no pressure. If you want to, we’ll look out for you.” She placed the bowl to her lips, flicked the light, and everyone was probably mesmerized.</p><hr/><p>Ronan tingled with an unfiltered, unstable energy. He didn’t know what would come out of showing up, and he definitely didn’t plan on staying for long, but there he was -- there they were.</p><p>It was a senseless thing. That was probably why Ronan was so surprised, and pleased, that Adam came with him.</p><p>“I’ve got an early birthday present for you, Lynch,” Kavinsky continued, gleefully waving a bottle around as he approached. <em> A race, </em>Ronan thought, but he wasn’t keen on ditching Adam and the extra weight would surely put him back. Not that it really mattered. A race was a race, but it also apparently wasn’t what Kavinsky had in mind. “Pick your poison. You want a cocktail? A firework? Or,” he snapped his fingers, “how about a round of Automotive Chicken?”</p><p>Ronan snarled. “Like fuck I would--”</p><p>“Blah blah blah, yeah, I <em> know, </em> like <em> fuck </em>your bitchass would risk your beaut of a bimmer in Automotive Chicken,” he drawled. He flung his bottle at their feet and it splintered across the asphalt. The sound shivered through Ronan’s fingertips and up his arms and down his spine. Beside him, Adam didn’t flinch -- a fact that Ronan quietly reveled in.</p><p>“I said I had a <em> present </em> for you,” Kavinsky continued. He eyed Adam up and down in a way that made Ronan burn <em> and </em>negated his next statement. “C’mon, man. I ain’t all bad. I’m thoughtful, if y’give me the chance. Proko!”</p><p>There was the growl of an all-too familiar sounding engine.</p><p>Kavinsky was all bad.</p><p>The blood burned in Ronan’s veins.</p><hr/><p>“Like this,” Blue instructed. She folded her lips and Gansey did the same as she gently moved his hands so he was holding her pipe to them. </p><p><em> Her lips had just been on it</em>, Gansey thought, and his heart raced impossibly quicker. He was painfully aware of how close she was sitting, of her bare shoulder staring him down as one makeshift strap of her toga slipped, of her fingers guiding his own, of her knee pressing against his thigh. Her presence was helpfully distracting him from the fact that veteran cannabis consumers Noah and Henry were watching him with rapt interest.</p><p>“Okay,” she continued, and just her voice made him already feel wavy around the edges, “I’ll light it for you, then just like I said: keep the little hole covered with your thumb when you inhale and let go halfway through. Ready?”</p><p>“As I’ll ever be,” he managed, smiling weakly. Henry whooped, Noah clapped, Blue smiled back.</p><p>Blue smiled, Blue smiled, Blue smiled.</p><hr/><p>Someone drove a Chevrolet Camaro down the lot. Orange. From 1973. Adam easily recognized it.</p><p>So did Ronan.</p><p>He immediately snatched Kavinsky -- not by the shirt again, but by the throat. Ronan grabbed his shoulder, Ronan threw him to the floor. Ronan glowered down at him, looking just about ready to smash his boot into his ribs. At the sight of Kavinsky crumpled on the floor and Ronan standing above him, Adam’s ears started ringing with the gasps and cries of the crowd. Mistake. Mistake. Not safe, not <em> safe. </em></p><p>(Adam looked down at his hands, then at Ronan and Kavinsky. Adam was fine, he wasn’t part of it. He’d be fine. Jesus. Jesus, Ronan.)</p><p>“You think this is fucking funny?” Ronan hissed, watching Kavinsky get back up. Adam braced himself with a hand on the top of the BMW. “You fucking stole Gansey’s fucking car? Are you goddamn fucking shitting me?”</p><p>“Fuck, man,” Kavinsky slurred, rubbing his collar as he rose. “No, man. You fucking dick fucking Dick. You think a POS like this and some plates are hard to get for someone like me?” His laughter was piercing and worldly. “Fuck you, man. I thought you’d love this. Don’t be such a little bitch.”</p><p>“You’ve got it twisted,” Ronan spit. His hands were in fists at his side. “You don’t know shit.”</p><p>“Aw, what, you don’t wanna wreck her? Or do you not believe me?” Kavinsky smacked the hood of the Camaro. “It ain’t Mr. Gansey’s, ‘cause it didn’t break down <em>once</em> when we drove it out, dipshit. C’mon. You ‘n me. C’mon. Automotive Chicken. Or you pussy out and pitch a molotov and call it a night, since you never bring jackshit to substance parties.”</p><p>Adam found his voice.</p><p>“What are you getting out of this?”</p><p>Kavinsky’s eyes glittered as they slid over to him.</p><p>“A show,” he said, “what else?”</p><hr/><p>Part of Henry’s inner circle joined them on the deck in the backyard: Henry Broadway, Logan Rutherford, Ryang, and Lee-Squared. A sober Henry and a cross faded Blue discussed climate change and the Warren Student Union and, after a bit of arguing, seemed to find a solid footing with one another. Noah and Cheng Two and Rutherford and Lee-Squared doubled up for beer pong, Ryang refereed. Gansey watched, quiet and pensive and slow to blink. His contacts felt a bit dry, as did his mouth--</p><p>Blue’s hand tapped his shoulder. </p><p>“Let’s get you some water,” she said, standing up from the patio couch. Gansey looked up and wondered if she’d read his mind before nodding and trailing after her. He’d noticed it before, especially when it came to the contrast between her and Ronan, but how short Blue was had struck him rather suddenly. If he pulled her into a hug, she surely would have fit right under his chin. It was a warming thought.</p><p>They were in the kitchen before he really processed it and Blue was easing a cup of water into his hands.</p><p>“How are you feeling?” Blue asked, leaning against a counter. He did the same.</p><p>“Interesting,” he responded, “but not terrible. The water was much needed -- thank you. And yourself?”</p><p>She snorted. “Healthily buzzed, healthily high. I’m just fine, Gansey. Richard. Richard Gansey. Richard Ca--”</p><p>“Blue,” Gansey exhaled, half-laughing and half-pleading. “Just Gansey.”</p><p>“Just Gansey?”</p><p>“That’s all there is, Jane,” he said.</p><p>“Dick,” she retorted.</p><p>Gansey, despite himself, grinned. “That’s a song, you know.”</p><p>Blue tilted her head. “Jane and Dick?”</p><p>“Dick and Jane, rather.”</p><p>“Sing it then, if it’s real.”</p><p>“Perhaps one day.”</p><p>“I’ll take it.”</p><hr/><p>“You in this,” Kavinsky said, pointing to Ronan then the supposedly false Camaro. “Me in my Mitsu. One round, whaddaya say?”</p><p>Ronan looked at him, then surprisingly, at Adam for counsel. Another firework went off, and in the moment, Ronan looked like a firework himself. </p><p>
  <em> Is it his?</em>
</p><p>Adam slowly shook his head.</p><p>
  <em> I can’t tell. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It could be. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And if it is?</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hell.</em>
</p><hr/><p>Blue eventually led them back to the deck outside. When they got there, though, the beer pong game was paused and everyone was crowded around Henry -- even Noah. All faces were pinched up with concern.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” She asked, at the same time Gansey asked “Is something the matter?”</p><p>“SickSteve called,” Henry said, and Blue and Noah looked at each other then at Gansey out of confusion, having not recognized the name. “He is with Koh. They were meeting up with Koh’s dealer for more weed, but--”</p><p>“But?” Blue pressed.</p><p>“Their dealer was in attendance of a party being held at the fairgrounds,” Henry continued. “And when they arrived, both Ronan Lynch and Gansey’s Camaro were seen on the premises.”</p><p>Everyone looked at Gansey. On a whim, Blue reached for his hand and clasped her fingers around his. His expression was unreadable--</p><p>“I see.”</p><p>But his tone was a smooth, even plastic. </p><p>Blue hated it.</p><p>She squeezed his hand tighter.</p><p>“I will drive you there,” Henry immediately offered. “Do not argue that I do not need to. I promise that I am aware.”</p><p>“It was Kavinsky’s party, wasn’t it?” Gansey pressed his thumb to his lip. He hadn’t seemed to register that Blue was holding his hand until--</p><p>“Kavinsky?” She repeated. “<em>Joseph </em>Kavinsky?”</p><p>Henry nodded. “You are familiar?”</p><p>Blue turned her gaze skyward, up at the stars blinking down at them.</p><p>“Unfortunately.”</p><p>(Gansey finally -- if not suddenly -- clutched her hand back.)</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>big oof amirite gamers.......</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. blame it on me, the things that i never did</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>the substance party’s main event and the afterparty at gansey &amp; ronan’s</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the passenger seat of Henry’s car, Gansey felt sober. He wasn’t -- not fully -- but he certainly <em> felt </em> sober.</p><p>At first, Gansey was certain that Ronan couldn’t have taken the Pig, because Gansey thought he had his keys on him. He then realized that he didn’t, since he left them on the credenza when Noah said he ordered a Lyft, but not having his house keys was the least of his concerns.</p><p>He didn’t think that Ronan would have used his car without his permission, let alone take the Pig to one of Kavinsky’s revels. Hell on earth, Gansey <em> knew </em>that his best friend wouldn’t do that -- Ronan knew what the Pig meant to him. But an ugly mess of suspicion (and guilt for the suspicion) still churned in the pit of Gansey’s stomach, threatening to rise into his throat alongside the taste of bile. He blamed it on the part of him that was past sobriety.</p><p>Gansey closed his eyes and wished he had his glasses on, rather than his contacts. How long had they been driving? He didn’t know. He couldn’t tell. He--</p><p>A firework whistled into the sky and exploded in a series of pops. He snapped his eyes open to take in their surroundings.</p><p>“Jeez,” Noah muttered. “Nothing about this seems legal.”</p><p>“That’s Kavinsky for you,” Blue mumbled back.</p><p>That was another thing that was weighing heavy on Gansey’s mind: how did Blue know Joseph Kavinsky? It perplexed him, but not enough to the point where it made him forget about Ronan.</p><p>(Dear god, <em> Ronan</em>.)</p><p>They rolled onto the fairgrounds. It seemed like everyone’s eyes were either on them or on--</p><p>“There,” Henry said. In the middle of the lot, there were two cars; the BMW, sideways with dark streaks arcing under the tires, and what looked like the Pig, facing forward. His stomach dropped at the Camaro -- was it his? But how could it have gotten there if the BMW was also present? Optimism shimmered in his chest. In the headlights of various cars, Gansey could make out three distinct figures: Kavinsky, naturally, lounging against the Camaro; Ronan, staring him down, a dangerous three, four paces away; and most shockingly, <em> Adam,</em> a short distance behind Ronan.</p><p>All three of them turned. Henry jovially beep-beeped his horn, announcing their arrival, as if it needed to be announced.</p><p>As Henry inched his car forward, Gansey inhaled slowly and exhaled even slower. He put their last few moments inside to good use and stuck his fingers between the back of his seat and the door -- and, as he hoped she would, Blue’s fingers caught his. He felt her grab the shoulder of his seat as she craned her neck around to look out the windshield.</p><p>“Shit,” she said, tangling their fingers a little more.</p><p>“Shit,” Noah agreed.</p><p>“Shit indeed,” Henry nodded. </p><p>He parked.</p><p>Gansey let go of Blue’s hand and emerged from the vehicle.</p>
<hr/><p>Ronan knew what it looked like, because what it looked like was him and the Pig at Kavinsky’s substance party. Ronan also knew, however, that Gansey was smart -- Gansey would know that Ronan <em> wouldn’t. </em>Gansey would see Adam and know that Adam wouldn’t, either. Gansey would see that his BMW was right there. Gansey would know that Kavinsky was a piece of shit hellbent on fucking him over for a laugh.</p><p>Still, though, seeing him pull up made him uneasy. In the bad way. In the worst way. Ronan didn’t do a damn thing and he still felt sick. How did he find out? How did--</p><p>Henry got out of the car after Gansey did. Then Noah.</p><p>They all looked a little ridiculous in their togas and Ronan was sure that the people watching were stifling drug-encouraged chortles -- Kavinsky, on the other hand, was not containing his amusement with their appearance. The only thing was, before he could do anything more than cackle, Gansey was briskly crossing the pavement with freezing authority in his voice.</p><p>“Now what,” he said, somehow sounding cheery and pleasant despite the way he was clipping his words, “fresh hell is this?”</p><p>“Dick-Dickity-Dick,” Kavinsky grinned, slinking off the hood of the Camaro. “Is this your fuckin’ boy band? I didn’t book live musical entertainment, but goddamn, sing us a li’l ditty.”</p><p>“I asked a question,” Gansey said, “and I very much would appreciate an answer. From anyone, really.” He looked pointedly at Ronan. Ronan just stared back.</p><p>
  <em> You can’t possibly think I’m responsible for this.</em>
</p><p>He got his answer when Gansey turned his head to look at Adam. </p><p>“We think he stole your car,” Adam responded. “We don’t know for sure.”</p><p>Gansey seemed kind of appeased by it. He thanked Adam with a nod.</p><p><em> There, </em> Ronan’s glare said, <em> there. You see? You fucking see? I didn’t. I’d never. Fuck you, if you think I would. </em></p><p>“Fuckin’ kidding me?” Kavinsky groaned. “You fucking losers. You party crashing puritan princesses. You people prob’ly didn’t even bring any fucking substances, you freeloading prudes. Can Mommy and Daddy take their bedroom eyes and arguments elsewhere? And who the <em> fuck </em>are these other clowns?”</p><p>“Do not speak ill of my company, Joseph,” Gansey said -- no, <em> ordered. </em> Ronan could feel how much Adam didn’t like his tone. “Did you or did you not steal my car?”</p><p>Despite the circumstances, Ronan relished in it.</p><p>“Half your <em> company </em> is dressed in fucking bedsheets.” Kavinsky looked at Henry and Noah, then at Adam and Ronan. He ignored Gansey’s question. “The other half are spineless pieces of eye candy. Somebody, a drink. I’m still too fucking sober for this.”</p><p>The other faces of Kavinsky’s crew loped to his side and created a barrier between them and the Camaro: Jiang, Skov, Swan, Prokopenko. Jiang gave Kavinsky a bottle and Kavinsky threw its contents back. Ronan knew all of his dogs by name and car, and it was obvious that them gravitating to Kavinsky’s flanks was an intimidation tactic. In instinctive retaliation, Ronan took a step toward Gansey, always the first to step towards Gansey no matter the situation, and he opened his mouth--</p><p>But then the last door on Henry’s car opened.</p><p>“Is that Blue?” Prokopenko said. </p><p><em> Prokopenko. </em> Why did <em> Prokopenko </em>know--</p><p>Kavinsky’s grin either faltered or widened. When he noticed the minuscule shift, Ronan looked between Blue and K, almost appalled. </p><p>(The ‘almost’ made him <em> almost </em>a hypocrite.)</p>
<hr/><p>Blue had been reluctant to get out of Henry’s car, but it only took her a couple of minutes to decide that staying inside was the cowardly thing to do. She wasn’t going to let <em> Kavinsky </em>corner her into not showing her face, Gansey and Adam and Noah and Ronan’s inevitable opinions be damned.</p><p>Why did she care, anyway? What did it matter to them? Blue was allowed to pick and choose her rabble as she pleased. She was not afraid of the unsolicited judgement that would come from her current friends knowing about her previous misadventures. She wasn’t.</p><p>So she got out. She was recognized. She didn’t respond to Prokopenko, but she followed Ronan’s lead and stood beside Gansey in solidarity.</p><p>“No fuckin’ way,” Kavinsky whistled, dragging the back of his hand over his mouth. His voice dripped with the influence of alcohol and some pill or another, as it always did. “You roll with these schmucks now? Seriously?”</p><p>“Why the fuck is he talking to you like he knows you?” Ronan quietly demanded through gritted teeth.</p><p>Blue tugged the sleeve of her toga up, suddenly feeling extremely underdressed. She didn’t like the feeling of people raking their eyes down her shoulders and legs and back -- not while she was in a sheet. “Is that really the most important thing happening right now?”</p><p>“It’s pretty fucking important to me.”</p><p>“Well, this isn’t about <em> you</em>, so--”</p><p>“Enough,” Gansey said, interrupting her. She would have been ferociously offended by how <em> bossy </em>his tone was, if not for the fact that Kavinsky and his friends were boredly staring the group of them down.</p><p>Right. Them.</p><p>From her peripherals, she noticed Noah inch closer to her. Adam moved toward Ronan.</p><p>...Blue didn’t really know what was happening. But the tension was high. The air was stiff. And they were a unit. The car behind Kavinsky’s pack was suspiciously similar to the Pig, if not actually the Pig. To top it all off, Blue was still a little faded -- though that just meant that she was all the more bold.</p><p>“Damn, Sarge,” Kavinsky drawled, “Dick Three got <em> you </em>wrapped around his finger, too. Oh, how the mighty fall.”</p><p>“Shove it. Don’t act like you know me.” </p><p>(He didn’t, he didn’t. Blue’s time with them was fleeting because she never meant for it to last in the first place. A string of encounters at dicey protests in the summertime led to a couple of aftermaths -- there were a few parties -- then the school year started and her priorities righted themselves -- and that was it. She hated how much she wanted to explain herself, because Blue Sargent didn’t owe a single soul in the universe an explanation.)</p><p>Kavinsky tipped his head. “Don’t I, though? And don’t I know you, Lynch? Fuck, you two’er just cut from the same goddamn cloth, huh? And now you’re both pets. Sad shit, man.”</p><p>Of course Ronan knew Kavinsky -- of course Kavinsky was the person Ronan raced. Blue could easily imagine them clawing and ripping at each other’s throats. She felt stupid for not making the <em> street racing </em>connection earlier, but her failure in connecting the dots was a testament to how she hadn’t been thinking much about Kavinsky.</p><p>She’d just forgotten about him, that’s it. But that made her wince. Was she really that cruel?</p><p>“Oh, you piece of--<em> ” </em>Blue said, almost in unison with Ronan’s “Motherfucker, I’ll--”</p><p>Noah grabbed her hand. He threaded their fingers together -- his were cold and grounding. When Blue looked over at him and his pleading expression, her insults melted on her tongue, and she squeezed.</p><p>Kavinsky narrowed his eyes.</p><p>She ignored it.</p><p>Maybe she <em> was </em>that cruel. </p><p>But maybe, he deserved it.</p>
<hr/><p>Adam was the one who stopped Ronan from advancing on Kavinsky. He was glad that Noah had done the same for Blue. </p><p>It was accomplished with a hand on Ronan’s shoulder, and it was the first time Adam touched him since <em> that night</em>. To his surprise, Ronan didn’t scowl at him and shake him off. Instead, he seemed to reluctantly respond -- in a good way. He looked like he lowered his hackles; he stopped himself short. Adam felt a strange sort of pride prickle through him, making his skin rise into goosebumps.</p><p>“Fucking soft, much,” Kavinsky scoffed. Adam didn’t know if he was talking about Blue or Ronan or both of them. Either way, Gansey stepped forward.</p><p>“I will ask again,” he said, having grown increasingly exasperated with the situation. “Did you, or did you not, steal my car?”</p><p>“Did I?” Kavinsky looked to the people at his sides. “Shit, did I? Honest question. Can’t remember. I’m pretty fucked up.”</p><p>“Prokopenko?” Blue entreated.</p><p>“Damn, bitch,” Kavinsky said, “now you wanna talk to him like you’re pals? Pick your side. Is it us or them?”</p><p>“Call me a bitch again.” Blue was seething. <em> Them, </em> she essentially said. <em> Us, </em>Adam thought. “See what happens.”</p><p>Kavinsky tipped his head. “Or we can just kiss and make up, dollface. The pack misses your company. Isn’t that right, PK?”</p><p>“Answer the goddamn question,” Ronan snapped. “We’re all sick of your shit, man.”</p><p>Kavinsky rolled his eyes. “I already told you, I didn’t fuckin’ steal it. I can’t believe you think I’d wanna sit in the same seats you and Dick get each other o--”</p><p>It was then that Adam lost his hold on Ronan. If it even existed, that is.</p><p>Ronan stormed forward to get into Kavinsky’s face. Gansey reached to stop him at the same time as one of Kavinsky’s friends (friends?) made a grab for Ronan’s collar to yank him sideways. The bottle Kavinsky was holding shattered on the ground, Gansey yelled, he tried to de-escalate, Kavinsky’s crew scrambled to shove Ronan back, Kavinsky told them all to fuck off and threw a fist at Ronan--</p><p>Gansey caught it instead. </p><p>Ronan returned it in kind to Kavinsky, then there were elbows and more swings and Adam was frozen in place -- there was a paper-thin line between action and inaction and he felt stuck in inaction. It was always inaction. Adam heard the <em> oohs </em> and <em> fucks </em> and <em> shits </em>of the spectators, they seared his skin, and the blows didn’t land on him but he felt them land on him anyway, he--</p><p>Ronan spat a string of swears and Adam saw blood dribbling down his nose and over his mouth. Blue shoved herself into the mess of it and tried to rip the fight apart, only to get knocked back by a blind swing. Noah and the other toga guy -- Cheng, he thought -- lunged to catch her. She shook them off; she persisted. In a whirlwind of rustling in his ears, the emotion Adam so diligently maintained boiled over inside of him -- spilling like oil in water and filling his lungs and --</p><p>But he wasn’t his father. He would never <em> be </em>his father. Adam acted to defend, because he was done with defenselessness. That was the difference, there was a difference.</p><p>Had it been the sight of Blue stumbling back and clutching her head yet still not backing down that startled him into action? It was likely. Compelled by some force either way beyond or deep within him, Adam reached for her. The only shitty thing was that, in the process of wrapping his arms around Blue and pulling her close, pulling her away, Adam felt the savage cut of an obnoxiously jeweled ring collide with his mouth, just over Blue’s head.</p><p>(It only really mattered that she was okay.)</p>
<hr/><p>There was blood, there were heaving chests, there were cuts and scrapes and bruises, there was booing and jeering from the partygoers, there were fireworks going off like fanfare and cars honking and too much, too much, too much.</p><p>When it ended, it hadn’t even <em> ended- </em>ended. It was Kavinsky’s goons leaning on each other, Adam holding his face and Gansey fixing his toga and Blue wiping her nose and Henry hustling back to the scene with Koh and Ryang in tow and--</p><p>And Kavinsky’s shirt in Ronan’s balled-up hands.</p><p>He hadn’t directly involved himself in the fight, something he felt a bit guilty for, but when one of their own wheeled backwards from the fray, Noah had caught them before they hit the glass-scattered asphalt. Now, as the energy crackled off of everybody in gradually dimming sizzles, Noah made himself most useful by standing close to Blue. She stood in front of him, either too proud or strong to need to lean on his shoulder. But he was there for her anyway.</p><p>“Did you steal Gansey’s car?” Ronan growled.</p><p>Kavinsky smiled. </p><p>Noah preemptively flinched.</p>
<hr/><p>Now, Henry Cheng was well aware that his Halloween would be an interesting one, but he most definitely did not anticipate an all-out brawl. Conversely, he was not sure as to what else to expect from a night spent with Richard Gansey and his merry men. It was always a surprise with him.</p><p>After Ronan and Kavinsky had been pried apart and properly kept from attacking one another, Gansey had been able to verify that Kavinsky’s Camaro was not the Pig. </p><p>(Kavinsky had thrown a set of keys at Ronan, who caught them with a simple raise of his hand. <em> I told you, man. I ain’t all bad. Your birthday gift, part one of two. Find me again for the rest. Sarge, you come, too. </em>Blue looked away. Ronan weighed the keys in his hand for a moment -- then he pitched them somewhere into the dark. And that had been that. They left. Koh and Ryang returned to Litchfield while Henry drove Noah and Blue behind Ronan, Adam, and Gansey in the BMW.)</p><p>All things considered, the denouement of their evening had gone smoothly. But, of course, there was the matter of discussing the night’s events. Gansey invited them all up to their apartment. Ronan did not look happy about it, though he never seemed to look happy about anything.</p><p>Everyone’s injuries were fully visible once they were inside. Noah and himself had emerged unscathed. On the other end of the spectrum, there was Ronan, who had battered knuckles and a bruise around his eye and blood on his face, among other things. Then there was Gansey, who only reported a painful ache near his nose; Adam, who had his lip somewhat busted by someone’s ring; then Blue, who had a similar kind of cut on her brow.</p><p>Henry sat on the couch with his hands tidily folded. Gansey retrieved a first aid kit and tried to force its contents upon Ronan, who had been barred from retreating into his room. Adam and Noah sat in silence. Blue was in the bathroom, though she eventually emerged de-togafied, having changed into an oversized shirt with her hair tied and clipped back.</p><p>She slumped onto the floor. Gansey silently slid a tube of Neosporin across the coffee table. Blue accepted it, squeezed a little onto her finger, then smeared it over her brow. She stared down at the excess before carelessly wiping it off on her shirt.</p><p>“I ran around with them for a bit. And then school started, and then I didn’t.”</p><p>Henry did not know how he was supposed to react to such a confession, especially given what people said Joseph Kavinsky’s crowd got up to, so he surveyed the expressions of the others in the room. Adam was unknowable. Gansey and Noah looked surprised. Ronan looked like he found the mere thought distasteful. Blue clearly disliked Ronan’s reaction.</p><p>She pinched her brows together and addressed him specifically. “Obviously, you have your own history with him. Mine is a couple of parties.”</p><p>Ronan used one of the tissues Gansey dropped into his lap to wipe his face. It came away stained dark red and Adam couldn’t seem to look away from it. Ronan and Blue glared at one another. Ronan got up. Ronan went to the kitchen. Ronan returned with a case of beers from the fridge. Ronan set one down in front of Blue.</p><p>It was a peace offering if Henry had ever seen one.</p><p>“You’re a dumbass.” He insulted her as he cracked his can open. </p><p>Blue tapped her nails on the edge of hers, as if warming up. “Takes one to know one.”</p><p>Ronan’s expression was quietly wicked as he took a long drink. The two of them were no longer glaring at one another. Instead, their faces held far more understanding than they did only two minutes ago. Then Gansey stood up. He said something about changing and returning shortly. </p><p>Henry observed the way Blue and Ronan promptly exchanged glances. They were awfully similar, he realized -- both prickly skinned, both laced up with Richardman. There was sameness in Ronan’s shaved head and Blue’s choppy hair; in Ronan’s dark jeans and Blue’s shredded shirt. If not for the obvious size difference, Henry would have confused his black boots for hers and vice versa.</p><p>She opened her beer and sipped at it with a wrinkled nose.</p><p>“So are you gonna talk to him first, or am I?” She asked Ronan. He just sneered at her.</p><p>“He thought I jacked the Pig,” Ronan marvelled, bitter and spiteful and resentful and offended and, if Henry read his tone right, <em> hurt. </em> Blue sighed and took that as her answer. She stood up and crossed the living room.</p><p>Then, there were four. </p><p>“So,” Henry tried, “what is this that I hear about your birthday?”</p><p>“Shut the fuck up.” </p><p>Henry just laughed, letting the aggression roll over him. It was nothing he was not already an expert at.</p><p>“Not to ghostwrite our beloved president, but I do think he would yet again advise that you…” Henry gestured to the first aid kit. Then at Ronan’s multitude of injuries. “And such.” Ronan looked ready to bite. Then, shockingly--</p><p>“I’ll help,” Adam said. He stood up; he gathered the plastic case and shoved its contents back in. Without looking at Ronan, he headed right for the bathroom.</p><p>Ronan followed him like he was sleepwalking.</p><p>Between himself and Noah, there was a beat of silence. Then:</p><p>“We could throw him a party,” Noah suggested. “Just us six.”</p><p>Henry nodded thoughtfully. He wondered -- what would another evening in their company be like? He liked the thought, at the very least. “You are a good man, Sir Czerny. I like the way you think.”</p>
<hr/><p>[ Kavinsky ]</p><p>
  <em> see you on the streets lynch</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>She didn’t even need to knock -- Gansey was in a plain t-shirt and pajama pants when he opened the door, right at the same time she stepped up to it. Though that had been shocking on its own, Blue was most taken aback by his <em> glasses. </em>They were awfully thick. The first thing she wondered was why he didn’t get laser work done or something, since he certainly was someone who could afford it.</p><p>(Then Blue realized that she liked him with glasses for that very reason. He could have easily afforded to get his vision corrected, and yet…)</p><p>“Can I come in?” She asked.</p><p>Gansey let her in.</p><p>She didn’t see his room when she first came over much earlier that evening, but it was bleeding with <em> Gansey. </em>The books, the maps, the mint plant on his desk -- she took it all in with wandering, greedy eyes. Most noticeably, his bed was in the very middle of his room, not against a single wall. Blue raised her eyebrows at him.</p><p>“Interesting bed placement,” she commented. </p><p>Gansey smiled a wane, flimsy smile.</p><p>Blue sighed.</p><p>“You’re upset,” she said, crossing her arms, “and I want to know why.”</p><p>“It’s been a bit of a long night, is all,” Gansey said. How tired he was was made obvious by his posture. With a wave of his hand, he gestured for them to sit on the edge of his bed. Blue complied. </p><p>“Ronan didn’t take the Pig, at least. So that’s good news, right?”</p><p>Gansey furrowed his brow. “That is correct. I apologized to him in the car, Adam as my witness. I had been foolishly concerned.”</p><p>“That’s good,” Blue nodded. “So you guys are okay?”</p><p>Gansey’s response was delayed by the amount of time it took for him to sigh and lay back on his bed, feet still on the floor. “I think so. I certainly hope so.”</p><p>“I don’t think Ronan would say mad at you for very long.” Blue’s hypothesis was quiet, but firm. She leaned back on one of her hands and looked down at him -- and he looked up at her. Something she only saw in the stars twinkled in his eyes.</p><p>“Brothers fight, I suppose.”</p><p>That’s what they were -- brothers. That was why Gansey was so concerned about him in the previous weeks; that was why Ronan felt so betrayed. Blue never had a brother, and the closest thing she had to a sibling was Orla.</p><p>Gansey reached a hand up to her face. Blue went very still, though she didn’t recoil or stop him. He pushed some hair out of her brow and squinted at her cut, clicked his tongue, then dropped his hand.</p><p>He closed his eyes. “I’m--”</p><p>“‘Terribly sorry, Jane’?” She predicted. Gansey‘s mouth quirked into something of a smile. “I figured. You don’t have to be.”</p>
<hr/><p>Adam didn’t have it in him -- or rather, at the time, couldn’t access that part of him -- to throw a punch, but at the very least, he knew a few things about patching somebody up.</p><p>Ronan closed the door behind them. Adam clicked open the first aid kit on the bathroom counter. He pretended not to notice.</p><p>Neither of them said a word. Ronan sat down on the closed lid of the toilet.</p><p>Adam washed his hands.</p><p>Ronan watched.</p><p>Adam dried them, he reached for a paper towel, he dampened it under the tap. He laid out an antiseptic wipe, the antibiotic cream, an array of bandages.</p><p>Ronan watched.</p><p>Adam turned, stepped forward, touched the paper towel to the blood smeared over Ronan’s face. He held his head still with a hand on his forehead. They were impossibly close. He avoided looking Ronan in the eye.</p><p>Ronan watched.</p><p>Adam cleaned up as much as he could and not once did Ronan flinch -- even when it came to the alcohol pads. </p><p>Ronan blinked.</p><p>Adam squeezed the ice compress -- shook its contents -- wrapped it in a hand towel. When he pressed it over one of Ronan’s eyes, they finally looked at one another.</p><p>Ronan’s mouth was screwed up into an obvious frown, but he closed his other eye.</p><p>Adam’s breath caught in his throat.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Ronan asked, voice low and gravelly.</p><p>“What I know how to do,” Adam said.</p><p>“Which is?”</p><p>“Fixing.”</p><p>Ronan’s laugh was like thunder. But that wasn’t what Adam meant.</p><p><em>(Things, </em> not people. Ronan Lynch wasn’t something he wanted to fix -- if anything, he was only now coming to terms with the fact that Ronan was someone he wanted to <em> learn. </em> Adam thought about Chainsaw, about Opal, about Gansey, about Kavinsky. Adam kept uncovering pieces and sides and stories about Ronan, and with every stone turned, he became more invested in finding the next.)</p><p>“What are <em> you </em>doing?” Adam asked back.</p><p>“What I know how to do,” Ronan echoed. Adam wasn’t impressed, and his silence conveyed that. So Ronan spoke again. “Dreaming.”</p><p>Adam wondered: <em>did he ever dream of me?</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank u everyone for reading and commenting!!! the feedback always makes me :’) and it’s so nice to hear from you. i appreciate it!!! so so so much! i have been thinking a lot about what will happen and i have a whole lot in mind, so huge thanks to everyone expressing interest. u guys make this worth it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. hello, nice to meet you (i was wondering if i could walk you home)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>so........ronan turns 21 :0</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Halloween quickly turned into a dream, equal parts vivid and fuzzy in detail. Aches lingered in their jaws and hearts and temples, reminding them the night’s events were all so very real, but nobody seemed to have much to say about them. Gansey thanked Henry for driving. Blue thanked Adam for looking out for her, while also emphasizing that she was perfectly capable. Ronan and Blue shared looks. Noah and Gansey did, too. Adam seemed to study Henry. Then, at the stroke of midnight, Gansey’s phone sang a jaunty tune, signaling to everybody in the living room that November 1st was upon them.</p><p>Ronan Lynch was officially twenty-one, and that meant a series of things.</p><p>First, it meant that Gansey was going to make a big deal of it, because Gansey loved an excuse to make a friend the center of something. He probably wanted an excuse to dissolve the tension leftover from Kavinsky’s party, too. </p><p>Gansey immediately shuffled to the kitchen and returned to the living room with a ‘surprise’ sheet cake that Ronan watched him try to ‘hide’ in the fridge two days ago. As he did every year. Gansey stuck candles in the thing and Blue helpfully produced a lighter from her bag. Ronan wanted to stick the melted wax in his ears to block out the god awful singing, but Adam quietly contributed -- and so it was worth it.</p><p>
  <em>ARTICLE 2A</em>
</p><p>
  <em>FURTHER BEQUESTS</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I GIVE MY ENTIRE INTEREST IN THE REAL PROPERTY WHICH WAS MY SECONDARY RESIDENCE AT THE TIME OF MY DEATH (“THE BARNS”), TOGETHER WITH ANY INSURANCE ON SUCH PROPERTY, TO MY MIDDLE SON.</em>
</p><p>Second, it meant that Ronan no longer needed his fake IDs.</p><p>Yeah, plural. Not that Ronan was ever really ID’d to begin with, nor did his age ever stop him from drinking, but whatever. Gansey would call it ‘the principle of the thing.’</p><p>
  <em>ARTICLE 7</em>
</p><p>
  <em>FURTHER CONDITION</em>
</p><p>
  <em>UPON MY DEATH, NONE OF MY CHILDREN SHALL TRESPASS THE PHYSICAL BOUNDARIES OF “THE BARNS,” OR THE ASSETS DEALT WITHIN THIS WILL SHALL BE BEQUEATHED INSTEAD TO THE NEW YORK-ROSCOMMON FUND, APART FROM THE ASSETS DEALT TO AURORA LYNCH.</em>
</p><p>Third, it meant that Ronan was expecting three calls: one from his younger brother, one from his elder brother, and one from the Lynch family lawyer.</p><p>Matthew’s call would come bright and early, but Ronan would answer it anyway. Declan’s call would come in the later morning hours, and Ronan would consider letting it go to voicemail. Their lawyer’s call -- he didn’t know when to expect it. He would debate not waiting for it.</p><p>
  <em>ARTICLE 7A</em>
</p><p>
  <em>FURTHER CONDITION</em>
</p><p>
  <em>THE PREVIOUS CONDITION (SEE ARTICLE 7) STANDS AS FACT UNTIL MY MIDDLE SON REACHES THE AGE OF TWENTY-ONE. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>UPON MY MIDDLE SON’S TWENTY-FIRST BIRTHDAY, MY CHILDREN SHALL BE ALLOWED FREE ACCESS TO “THE BARNS,” ALTHOUGH THEY MAY NOT ONCE AGAIN TAKE RESIDENCE THERE UNTIL THEY HAVE ALL REACHED THE AGE OF TWENTY-ONE.</em>
</p><p>And fourth, he was going home.</p><p>He reluctantly blew out the candles. This was the first time in -- how many years? -- that he’s had to blow out Gansey’s birthday candles in front of other people.</p><p>“Did you make a wish?” Noah prodded, smiling broadly.</p><p>Ronan wanted to look in Adam’s direction.</p><p>“No,” he said, because he didn’t.</p><p>“You should have wished for no birthday punches,” Blue said, a wicked gleam in her eye. Henry said something about him <em> ‘already having received them from Kavinsky’s goons‘ </em> and Gansey said ‘<em>that comment was in poor taste’ </em>and Noah laughed nervously and Blue said ‘<em>screw that, I’m gonna sock him in the arm anyway’ </em>and Adam smiled and Gansey pleaded and Blue settled for lunging forward to smear icing across Ronan’s cheek and she laughed at him, they laughed at him, Adam laughed--</p><p>(Home, Ronan thought. Home, home, home. He was going home.)</p>
<hr/><p>Only Gansey knew the story. It wasn’t the full one, but he still knew more than anyone else did. Though Declan had told him a few things, Ronan told him the majority, usually while he was drunk. This was what Richard Campbell Gansey III knew about Ronan Niall Lynch’s history.</p><p>Gansey knew that Niall Lynch evicted his own family out of their rural home for some stuffy manor in the suburbs. </p><p>Gansey did not know why the Lynch family was forced to move.</p><p>(It was horrible and selfish, but Gansey was glad that they did. Otherwise, he would have never met Ronan, and the two of them wouldn’t have become friends. Their first year in high school with one another was a glorious one.)</p><p>Gansey knew that Niall Lynch was murdered in the driveway of said suburban manor, and that Ronan found his body on the last day of a holiday break. Right before he was due to return to school. They were sixteen. Sophomores. </p><p>He did not know why he was killed, or if Ronan knew. But he thought that Declan might.</p><p>(Ronan was different before he lost his father. Gansey remembered their first day back; he remembered how Ronan shoved an electric razor into his hands. They shaved his head in silence.)</p><p>Gansey knew that Aurora Lynch was in a persistent vegetative state -- or maybe comatose -- or catatonic -- or something or other. Gansey just knew that she was not awake, and he knew that paramedics pulled her body out of a car wreck that investigators deemed orchestrated. It happened the same night that Niall was killed.</p><p>He did not know how that knowledge influenced Ronan’s feelings about street racing, if it did so at all.</p><p>(Ronan rarely visited Aurora at her long-term care facility. Gansey had never been, nor did he ever push the matter.)</p><p>Gansey also knew that Ronan and his brothers had been twice forbidden from returning to “the Barns” -- once (informally) after they moved, a second time (officially) after Niall was murdered and his will was enacted. </p><p>He did not know why “the Barns” was off-limits.</p><p>(Neither did Ronan.)</p><p>Finally, Gansey knew that, when Ronan turned 21, he could return to “the Barns.”</p><p>But he did not know if Ronan would let him come with him -- especially not after how Gansey had underestimated him that night. </p><p>(He could, however, hope. Hope had gotten him relatively far in life so far.)</p>
<hr/><p>It was something that he was going to do alone. Declan wasn’t going with him because he was in D.C., and he was <em> Declan</em>, his older brother.Matthew wasn’t going with him because he had lacrosse champs, and he was <em> Matthew, </em> his younger brother. His own siblings -- the only two people in the world who might actually be able to begin to understand how badly Ronan wanted this -- were unable to return to the Barns with him.</p><p>Which was fine. Ronan was fine with doing things alone. If anything, it was a good thing that he’d be going alone, because that meant that he’d be left alone with his thoughts. He could process in peace, remember on his own.</p><p>He was going home.</p>
<hr/><p>After cake, Henry left for Litchfield and Noah drove Adam and Blue to their apartments. In the living room, Gansey was in negotiation mode.</p><p>Ronan finished another beer.</p><p>“If your brothers are unavailable, let us come with you,” Gansey said, earnestly pushing his thumbs together. The idea made Ronan cackle loud enough to warrant a noise complaint, but Gansey had been serious. He didn’t want Ronan returning to his childhood home alone -- something about the idea simply didn’t sit right with him.</p><p>“<em>Sure,” </em>he laughed. His words ran into each other, a result of how much he had to drink. “You ‘n Cheng with his whackshit spiky hair and Noah’s fuckin’ skater dweeb ass and the motherfucking maggot’s big mouth and <em> Parrish’s </em>dryass hands can come. Fuck outta here with that bull, man.”</p><p>And then he retired to his room, leaving Gansey with a terrible decision to make within the next eight to ten hours. It was a decision that would potentially alter the course of their entire friendship and Gansey knew it.</p><p>That night, <em> he </em> called <em> Blue </em> for the first time.</p><p>He did not mention Adam’s apparently dry hands, but he did mention Ronan’s invitation.</p>
<hr/><p>“What the fuck is this?” Ronan hissed.</p><p>When he walked out of his room, it was with an overnight bag slung over his shoulders. That morning, their lawyer clarified that visits were permitted -- residency was not. Ronan wouldn’t be breaching his dad’s will if he stayed a weekend, because he’d be doing so without intending to spend the majority of his time there. Not that they’d be able to find out otherwise.</p><p>Probably.</p><p>More pressing than the technicalities of Niall Lynch’s will, though, was this: when he walked out of his room, an overnight bag slung over his shoulder, it was to Adam, Blue, and Noah in the living room. Again. They were infesting the place like roaches.</p><p>Gansey stood up from the couch. He, too, appeared to have packed a bag.</p><p>“Unfortunately, Henry and his -- quote -- ‘whackshit spiky hair’ has to tend to the mess that is Litchfield After Litchfield After Dark. But the rest of us are available this weekend.”</p><p>Ronan scrubbed a hand down his face. “I was being fucking sarcastic, man.”</p><p>“Were you? I couldn’t tell,” Gansey said, all slick and smooth and <em> Richard “Dick” Campbell Gansey the Third, son of the Second, son of the First</em>. “I just assume there is truth to everything you say, seeing as you never lie.”</p><p>Ronan glowered at him. Then at Blue, at Noah, at Adam. All three of them were silent, seeing as Gansey probably gave them the impression that they’d been actually, properly, officially invited. He set his jaw.</p><p>He could just say no. He could just say <em> no, </em> and he could <em> leave, </em>and Gansey wouldn’t be able to do shit about it. It would be easy. He could do it.</p><p>Ronan stormed towards the door.</p><p>“Don’t ask me where we’re going. Don’t ask me <em>why </em>I’m going. If you think you’re gonna complain about how I drive or about my music, then you either choose to drive with Gansey now or you jump out a window and walk your ass back home later.”</p><p>He was going home.</p>
<hr/><p>Gansey, Noah, and Adam took the Pig; Blue hopped into the BMW with Ronan. It was a good thing that Gansey and Ronan were their two drivers, because given the way things panned out both the night before and just that morning, the two needed space from each other. It wasn’t hard to see that Ronan wasn’t at all happy that they were all coming along.</p><p>(But phooey to the Raven Boy. He would have a goddamn good birthday, one not spent alone and wallowing, and they’d make frickin’ sure of it.)</p><p>It probably would have made more sense for Noah to stick with her and Ronan. Blue had just been wanting a chance to talk to him -- only him. And not about his retreat to his family’s ‘old countryside property,’ like Gansey called her about, but about other things. Like Kavinsky. And Gansey. </p><p>And Adam.</p><p>Blue reached over to the dashboard to turn down the ear-splitting electronica a little bit.</p><p>“So,” she started.</p><p>He turned up the stereo again.</p><p>“No,” Ronan finished.</p><p>Bastard.</p>
<hr/><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> my ears are bleeding  </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> :( </em>
</p><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em> The energy is weird. That’s not just me, right? </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> well gansey obviously didn’t clear this with ronan beforehand </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> should we have not come you think </em>
</p><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em> Too late now </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> agh.</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>“Was this a good idea?” Adam asked. There’d been so much tension between Gansey and Ronan -- almost more than <em> he </em>had with Ronan. Which was quite a bit. </p><p>Gansey furrowed his brow.</p><p>“It was both possibly a good idea,” he said, “and possibly not a good idea. I have to admit, I fear what will happen if it turns out to be the latter.”</p><p>“So you took a risk,” Noah submitted.</p><p>“A great one. But my intuition, my gut, tells me that it was the right one.”</p><p>Adam stared out the window. He used his never-before-touched sick hours at both Blue and Gansey’s last minute behest, but also because of Ronan, the bathroom, Ronan, <em> Ronan.  </em></p><p>Not that he would ever -- be able to, dare to, choose to -- admit it. </p><p>He didn’t even know where they were going, how far they would be going, what they would be doing. The way Gansey pitched it made it sound like a weekend getaway at some fancy estate, which was something Adam definitely wouldn’t enjoy. Just like a substance party -- and he’d gone to that anyway, too.</p><p>Despite the fact that the whole situation reeked of trouble, Adam’s intuition steered him down the very road that they were driving, right alongside Gansey’s.</p>
<hr/><p>[ Noah has sent a game request: 8Ball Pool. ]</p><p>
  <em> :) </em>
</p><p>[ Blue has accepted a game request: 8Ball Pool. ]</p><p>
  <em> &lt;]:)</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>“Did you ever find out? What Kavinsky’s ‘part two’ to your birthday thing was?”</p><p>Ronan pursed his lips. Blue kept trying to <em> talk </em>to him, for fuck’s sake. His phone gave him an estimated hour and a half left of drive time.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Are you going to?”</p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p>“If you want me to, I can go with you.”</p><p>It would have made for an interesting concept for any other day, but it just didn’t matter to him in the moment. Ronan didn’t have the bandwidth to think about Kavinsky or Blue or KavinskyandBlue when he was trying to follow his directions to the Barns. He wasn’t thinking about anything other than how much five years must have changed his childhood home. He was thinking about his dad. His mom. His old room. Everything they were forced to leave behind because <em> we’ll just buy you all new stuff once we’ve moved. </em></p><p>(It was bittersweet. On the one hand, it meant that everything would remind him of life before it all changed. On the other, it meant that he wouldn’t be returning to a bare skeleton of a house. Altogether, it meant that there was no real winning, not for him -- never for him.)</p>
<hr/><p>Adam’s heart just about stopped in his chest when they cruised past the sign. His throat felt tight, his seat belt was crushing his chest, squeezing the air out of his lungs--</p><p>His phone pinged.</p>
<hr/><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> hey so </em>
</p><p>
  <em> what the damn. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> do you think we’re just passing through?? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> he won’t say anything </em>
</p><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em> Coincidence? </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> cOiNciDeNcE ok gansey </em>
</p><p>
  <em> kidding. are you okay? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i know you said you haven’t been back in a while but </em>
</p><p>
  <em> …….okay well fuck we’re definitely not just passing through </em>
</p><p>
  <em> we’re not here for you, adam. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> sorry i mean i am here for u but we r not HERE here for you </em>
</p><p>
  <em> in henrietta </em>
</p><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em> I hear you </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Thanks, Blue.</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>Only Blue knew the story. It wasn’t the full one, but she still knew more than anyone else did. Adam hadn’t told her what she knew, though -- she figured the bits and pieces that she had out on her own. The image was despicably incomplete, but it was enough to know that this ‘coincidence’ wasn’t a favorable one. This is what Blue Sargent knew about Adam Parrish’s home life.</p><p>Blue knew that Adam’s relationship with his parents was incredibly strained in high school. She knew it was far worse between him and his father than it was with his mother.</p><p>She didn’t know why there was so much tension, but she could guess.</p><p>Blue knew that he would miss school sometimes and that he appreciated when she’d collect homework for him.</p><p>She didn’t know why someone as diligent and punctual as him skipped class, but she could guess.</p><p>Blue knew that there was a time in gym class where someone moved to high-five him, causing Adam to flinch.</p><p>She knew why, because she guessed.</p><p>Blue knew that he was happy to be away from Henrietta, which was why having Ronan drive them there was so jarring.</p><p>She didn’t know what to do, but she would guess, and she would figure it out.</p><p>“Your family has property here?” She asked Ronan, incredulous. It wasn’t a very probing question, not in Blue’s eyes, but she seemed to have said something wrong. Ronan didn’t respond. He just glared at the road.</p><p>“Gansey didn’t tell us anything specific, if you’re wondering,” she assured him.</p><p>“I wasn’t.”</p><p>They passed Nino’s. They passed Boyd’s. They even passed Mountain View High. They cut through the sleepy streets of Henrietta, passed the residential district, through the town, towards the forests and fields skirting the edges of the county.</p><p>Blue wished she had chosen to ride in the same car as Adam.</p>
<hr/><p>The drive out of town and into the countryside was a winding one: full of sudden hitches like surprised breaths caught in throats and turns sharp enough to cause whiplash. Through forest, through steep hills -- Ronan navigated the territory with the understanding that, at the end of the road marked up on the directions, something was waiting to be woken up. </p><p>That something, however, was not <em> at </em> the Barns. It’d been dormant inside of him for so many years, and the closer they got, the more it stirred.</p><p>They pulled through a gravel driveway, and that gravel driveway was a tongue lolling out from between two stone pillars -- fangs -- completely overgrown with ivy. Further down, clusters of oak trees made up multiple rows of staggered teeth. Down, down, down, into the throat of the woodland beast -- around a sharp bend --</p><p>The farmhouse was everything he remembered it to be. </p><p>It was scrappy-looking and by no means a marble mansion or stone castle, but the surrounding pastures dotted with white-roofed barns seemed to give it something of a royal quality. Despite the shabby appearance of the buildings, there was clearly wealth tied into the property. It was a kingdom in and of itself, of which Ronan Lynch was willed to be its sovereign. </p><p>His breath came out in a ragged way. His head began to hurt. His injuries from the night before began to throb. He felt like he was stuck in that realm between consciousness and a dream.</p><p>Blue was silent in the passenger seat. He almost forgot that she was there.</p><p>“Get out,” he said, voice even. Her eyebrows shot up like she was about to protest, then they dropped because she didn’t know what she was protesting. “Get Gansey to take you all to town for groceries, or some shit. I don’t fucking know.”</p><p>He had resigned himself to their presences during the drive -- it just wasn’t ‘til the Barns became <em> real </em> and <em> in front of him </em> and <em> right there </em>that he realized that he did want to be alone. At least for a little bit, at least for the first part. Ronan didn’t look at her while he spoke; he just stared at the BMW’s dashboard.</p><p>“Okay,” she said. There was the sound of crinkling paper. “Okay. Happy birthday. I wish I knew sooner, so this is -- yeah.”</p><p>Blue got out of the car.</p>
<hr/><p>The Pig ambled back down the gravel driveway without Adam in it. Blue told him what Ronan said, but he didn’t want to go into town -- so he didn’t. None of them fought him on the matter, because when Blue didn’t push it, Gansey and Noah seemed to get the hint.</p><p>(Adam had so many questions.)</p><p>He opened the passenger door of the BMW to find Ronan sitting with his eyes closed. Though he didn’t look over, his expression briefly scrunched up with distaste at the sound. Adam got in anyway. He nearly sat on a little parcel, wrapped in newspaper and tied with twine, that was left in the seat. He gingerly picked it up and set it on the center console.</p><p>“From Blue, I think,” he said. Maybe he should have scrapped together some sort of present.</p><p>Ronan didn’t open his eyes -- he almost looked like he was sleeping. Adam allowed himself a moment of study. Then he decided that he was content to sit in the silence, too.</p>
<hr/><p>“Is Adam alright?” Gansey asked Blue once they were past the worst of the dirt road. The Pig had, thank god, yet to show signs of possibly failing him now.</p><p>“Yeah,” Blue said, though her confirmation sounded a little empty. “We’re just surprised, is all. We didn’t know that we were coming to Henrietta.”</p><p>“Hey,” Noah stepped in, “aren’t you--”</p><p>“From Henrietta? Yep. We both are.”</p><p>Surprised, Gansey glanced over at her in hopes of reading her expression. To his dismay, she was facing out the window, so all he could catch were unruly locks of dark hair, coaxed into disarray by her clips.</p><p><em> A coincidence, </em>his heart hummed anyway, because it believed that all of this was too uncanny to be chance.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em> What do you want, Adam? </em>
</p><p>Ronan kept not-sleeping behind the wheel. Then he spoke up.</p><p>“Why are you here?”</p><p>(Always with the questions. It seemed like all they had to say to each other were more questions.)</p><p>“Why are you?”</p><p>“I asked you first.”</p><p>Adam wet his lips. He looked out at the line of oak surrounding the front of the property and shivered the way their leaves rustled. He searched for the right words in the sun-kissed treetops.</p><p>“Home is hard,” he finally said, a fraction softer than how he meant to say it. </p><p>Ronan just laughed, and something told Adam that it was with him, not at him. His eyes caught on his open mouth.</p><p>
  <em> Who are you, Ronan?</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>Blue was able to tell Gansey exactly where to go when they made it back to town. She knew the streets, knew the turns, knew it all. She had to admit, after two decades in Henrietta, it was nice to feel like her familiarity with the place was a new kind of useful.</p><p>“I live down that street,” she pointed out. Was she supposed to use past or present tense when talking about her childhood home? She still didn’t know.</p><p>“Oh, man,” Noah gushed, “can we visit you one day?”</p><p>The idea made Blue equal parts excited and nervous. She tried to laugh it off. “Maybe one day.”</p><p>“It’d be interesting,” Gansey mused, “to see the place someone with your taste for life grew up. Pray tell, who were your influences?”</p><p>“My mom,” she snorted. “My aunts. My mom.”</p><p>Gansey smiled. Noah changed the song. Blue hoped that Adam was having better luck with Ronan than she did.</p>
<hr/><p>Ronan unbuckled his seatbelt eventually. He thought -- he thought he’d want to barrel inside, given how desperately he wanted to go home. Instead, he ended up sitting in the BMW in silence, with Adam, for about ten minutes.</p><p>(It was surprisingly comfortable.)</p><p>“Do you want me to stay here?” </p><p>(And Adam was surprisingly perceptive.)</p><p>Ronan snatched his keys out of the ignition and hauled himself out of his seat. It was time. That thing inside of him, it was ready to wake up. It was time, it was time.</p><p>“I don’t care,” he said.</p><p><em> You can come. You might as well, </em>he meant.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hey hey howdy!!! it is me, here again, thanking u all once more for your continued support. i can’t begin to tell you how happy it makes me to get comment notifications — so much love to everyone who has been following the story and taking the time to read my work. it truly, truly warms my heart!!!</p><p>in case anything was a little confusing, here’s a quick summary about ronan’s sitch in this fic:</p><p>niall forced his family to move away from the barns in henrietta and forbade them from going back. that was when he was around 15, right when he was due to start high school, so gansey knew pre-niall’s death!ronan for a year. niall was murdered and aurora entered the modern-equiv of her dream creature sleep, ronan found niall’s body (at their new house, not the barns), trauma trauma trauma. </p><p>niall’s will basically says ronan has to be 21 for him to return to the barns, and all of the lynch brothers have to be 21 for them to live there. this is the first time ronan will be there in approx five years.</p><p>you might be able to guess why niall forced the move/why he was murdered, but i’m definitely going to flesh out more details as we move forward :-) this includes details about aurora and adam and gansey, too! i’m trying to fuse as much of canon as i can into this bad boy so Hooyah There Will Be Stuff Happening</p><p>please let me know if you have any questions!!! my work isn’t beta’d so i am just rollin’ with what my brain be doing :’)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. can i get lost in your mind, if i let you get lost inside mine?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>blue + gansey + noah go to the grocery store and blue is the mighty leader of the Defend Adam Parrish Squad; ronan steps into the barns with adam right behind him.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Blue recognized Mrs. Parrish looking around the produce section, she immediately ducked her head. She hooked her fingers into the grates of their shopping cart to drag Noah and Gansey in the opposite direction.</p><p>Even if Adam’s mother saw her, it wasn’t like she could deduce that Adam was in town with her -- it was what Gansey or Noah might say if a conversation happened that worried her. She would have rather seen her mother or <em> Orla </em> instead of Mrs. Parrish, because she could actually handle her mother and Orla meeting Gansey and Noah (probably). Mrs. Parrish, though? Or Mrs. Parrish <em> and </em>Robert Parrish, if he was walking around somewhere in another aisle?</p><p>God. <em> God. </em>Blue didn’t want to imagine it, lest she accidentally manifested it.</p>
<hr/><p>He didn’t know what Ronan was going through, but it was definitely a lot. </p><p>It was a lot for Adam, too.</p><p>On the rare occasion that he <em> did </em>make the trip back to Henrietta, it was after a good amount of planning and preparing. Seeing as he lacked a car, it was always a matter of lining up his work schedule with the bus or train schedules -- a matter of getting ahead on assigned reading, just in case time was short -- a matter of mentally steeling himself to be back in a place that never truly felt like home.</p><p>Adam Parrish didn’t know what home was supposed to feel like, but he knew what it <em> wasn’t </em>supposed to feel like.</p><p>People weren’t supposed to feel guilty for taking up space in their homes; people weren’t supposed to find it easier to fall asleep in public libraries or cramped auto mechanic offices than in their homes. People weren’t supposed to feel <em> only </em> sheer, untempered joy when they left their homes for college. People were supposed to feel like their homes were safe.</p><p>Henrietta wasn’t home for him. </p><p>It was supposed to be, but it wasn’t, so Adam had been without a true home for as long as he could remember. Ronan, on the other hand… The way that he stepped up to the porch, the way that he unlocked the door, the way that he pushed it open -- the farmhouse had been his home once, Adam could tell. He didn’t know right away, but he could tell. </p><p>Adam had silently trailed after Ronan, and in the landing room, there were a thousand and one things that screamed <em> home </em> when he really considered them<em>. </em>The detail that really gave it away were the pictures on the walls: a mother, a father, three children. One of them had to be Ronan (the eyes gave it away), which meant that he had siblings -- and it was such a simple thing to know, but for some reason, Adam felt like he was intruding.</p><p>(Maybe he should have stayed in the car.)</p><p>Ronan hadn’t moved from the middle of the landing room. His hands were shoved in his pockets and he was glaring at a crystal vase on the credenza. There was a fresh bouquet of wildflowers in them.</p><p>Adam wondered if Ronan was like him -- he wondered if it had been a while since he visited home. That was one of the many, many thoughts that circled through his mind. Adam wondered where Ronan went to school, since he had a home in <em> Henrietta </em> but never once spent a day at Mountain View High. Then he remembered that he went to high school with Gansey, and paired with how expansive the property was, Adam had to acknowledge that Ronan also came from a likely obscene amount of wealth. So how did the pieces line up? Did the two of them go to boarding school? It seemed likely.</p><p>The further he ventured into the nuances, the more there was to learn.</p><p>(Maybe he really should have stayed in the car.)</p><p>There had been no other vehicles outside of the farmhouse, suggesting that either nobody else was present or they had a whole separate garage for them or something. Adam also noted that the place was in impeccable shape, at least in terms of the lack of dust -- except while the counters and pictures and mirrors were all clean, there were wicker baskets of colorful toys and pogo sticks against a wall and muddy shoes piled in a corner by the door and...</p><p>Ronan walked deeper inside. </p><p>Adam followed, rather greedily cataloguing details to add to his mental collage of Ronan Lynch.</p><p>(When he passed by the flowers in the vase, he found that they were set up next to a half-burned candle and a photo of the man in the family portraits. Adam’s brain reeled with the implication -- the car, the car, he shouldn’t have overstepped into Ronan’s space--)</p><p>His legs brought him forward anyway.</p><p>The sofas and armchairs in the living room were covered in clear vinyl slips. The carpets and rugs had that freshly-vacuumed pattern zigzagging over it. The photographs on the wall showed their subjects getting increasingly older, to the point where Adam could pick out Ronan among the trio of boys, despite his younger self’s not-shaved-head. He looked happy, Adam noticed -- they all did. He wondered what happened. He wondered if Ronan would ever tell him.</p><p>Adam was so busy taking in the cheery expressions of the pictures that he was startled when the shatter came, splintering and piercing and gut wrenching and--another, there was a crash--then a yell of either effort or pain or <em> both. </em>Adam wheeled around to face the source of the noise and--</p>
<hr/><p>Blue led them through the grocery store, Gansey pushed the cart, Noah walked alongside Blue. She picked out the kind of cookies she remembered Adam liking -- the generic store brand, because he’d accept nothing else.</p><p>Noah raised his eyebrows. “That one? We could just get this one.” He pointed to the name brand version, and Blue leaned in to check the tag -- a whopping seventy-three cents more expensive. Blue shook her head and put her selection in the basket.</p><p>“No, these are fine,” she assured them, ignoring the way Gansey and Noah glanced at one another.</p>
<hr/><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em>A bit of a strange question, I apologize. Is your refrigerator operating? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sorry, that’s not a set up for a joke, I’m just wondering if an ice box and ice would be a sound investment</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Same question regarding other appliances, since we’re in town. I can pick up whatever </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Just let me know what you need, Ronan.</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>His phone rang a few times in his pocket. He ignored it. Then it pinged with a series of text messages and he ignored those, too. But it wasn’t like he could check his phone, even if he wanted to -- Adam wouldn’t let go of his hand for shit. He wasn’t complaining.</p><p>Ronan had punched through a mirror once, twice, three times. When Adam noticed, Ronan turned to storm out to the fields, but then Adam grabbed his arm and asked -- demanded? -- to be shown to the bathroom and--</p><p>And for the second time in less than a single twenty-four hour period, Adam Parrish was rummaging through first aid shit in a bathroom with Ronan Lynch.</p><p>Niall had left them with many things, but part of what Aurora left (besides a gaping hole) was a heap of medical supplies. Bandages for scrapes gotten from climbing trees and exposed wood, for the boxing matches that the elder Lynch brothers were coached through, for accidents with gardening tools, splinters and stubbed toes and paper cuts -- for every injury imaginable. </p><p>Most were long-expired products, just like the people who owned them.</p><p>Ronan’s knuckles still ached from how he pitched his fists at Kavinsky. They ached some more from how he beat the shit out of a mirror when what Ronan saw looked too much like his father. Now, they especially <em> ached </em> because Adam was holding them, wrapping them with gauze, furrowing his brow as he worked -- <em>fixed--</em></p><p>
  <em> What are you doing? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What I know how to do. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Which is? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Fixing. </em>
</p><p>“Why are you here?” Ronan asked, more forcefully than he did in the car. He was frustrated, confused, <em> angry. </em>At everything, about everything; at everyone, about everyone. He was upset because he felt like a stranger in his own home. He was upset because Declan probably hired an actual stranger to drive there and clean the place up. He was upset because everything was the same and different, he was upset because he didn’t have the capacity to feel just sadness--</p><p>And Adam was the nearest living thing. It wasn’t fair, but Ronan couldn’t think about fair when his brain was so consumed by hurt.</p><p>Only Adam’s response came without a missing beat. Brilliant blue eyes flicked up to him, just for a second, and the ache in Ronan’s hand found its way into his chest.</p><p>“Home is hard,” Adam whispered.</p><p>Ronan didn’t have an answer. He couldn’t bring himself to laugh at those three words a second time.</p><p>He just closed his eyes.</p>
<hr/><p>Gansey was surprised by how many canvas tote bags Blue kept on her person. There weren’t quite enough to hold all of their groceries, but she was adamant about not taking a single plastic bag from the store -- in the same way she was adamant about paying for some of their purchases. It took Noah’s hand on her shoulder to get her to stop arguing with Gansey at the register.</p><p>“Please,” he said, one last time. It sounded more like an apology.</p><p>“Fine,” she relented, though she mumbled something else under her breath that he didn’t catch. Regardless, Gansey swiped his card, punched in his pin, collected his receipt, turned to Noah and Blue--</p><p>But Blue had already collected almost every tote bag. They were looped over both of her arms, up to her elbows, and all that was left for Noah and Gansey to carry was a pack of sodas and a few other bulkier items. Blue marched ahead and he was just a little in awe about how stubborn -- how independent -- how ferociously vibrant and headstrong she was. </p><p>(Alright, fine. Perhaps Gansey was in extreme awe of Blue Sargent -- it was fine. He very well knew that he couldn’t be blamed.)</p>
<hr/><p>Instead of racing, Adam’s heart slowed down. And it was a bizarre experience.</p><p>It was Ronan’s eyes closing as he leaned against the bathroom counter. It was the familiarity of the situation, it made Adam wonder if the previous night had just been a prophetic dream because the night before was vaguely fuzzy but the current moment was wickedly sharp. It was the flickering light overhead, Neosporin that suspiciously expired <em> four </em> years ago, Ronan’s split knuckles, all of the clues that Adam’s pieced together. It was Ronan, an enigma that was becoming less of an enigma. It was Adam, feeling like he needed to share something about him too, because otherwise things would be imbalanced.</p><p>He wrapped -- unwrapped -- rewrapped (better that time) Ronan’s knuckles.</p><p>“Blue and I are from here,” he said. “Henrietta.”</p><p>He felt Ronan’s eyes on him again. Did he keep going? Should he? <em> Could </em>he? His throat was dry, like his hands in winter. Then he realized how close they were to winter and how chafed his hands must have been against Ronan’s skin. </p><p>His cheeks were warm.</p><p>(Ronan’s skin. His hands in his. The sharp line of his nose, the sharper line of his jaw, the even sharper lines of his tattoos, cutting nightmare black into his shoulders. Adam swallowed thickly, suddenly aware of how close they were. He wanted to trace those lines and hear Ronan tell him things, instead of just imagining shapes and making assumptions.)</p><p>“I don’t visit much,” Adam continued. “Not really, and not for very long.”</p><p>His voice, damn it -- it was hoarse. Embarrassingly hoarse. Pitifully hoarse. He lost everything else he could have said.</p><p>
  <em> My father isn’t legally dead, but he’s dead to me. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> All I know is fixing, but I never fixed what was supposed to matter most. I deal with it and fix everything else.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> I think I’d like to know you. </em>
</p><p>Ronan was silent, and then he wasn’t.</p><p>“Home is hard,” he echoed. It was the third time that those words were used and they hit hardest coming from Ronan.</p><p>Adam nodded. </p><p>And he dared to look up. </p><p>And the decision wasn’t a mistake.</p>
<hr/><p>Blue was glad to be out of the supermarket. She made them move as quickly as possible, though she was aware that it made her act a little snappish and testy. It was fine, she’d just vaguely explain herself in the car. ‘I saw someone I knew,’ she’d say, and she’d leave it at that. Blue trucked herself to the Pig, a good distance in front of Gansey and Noah--</p><p>“Blue?”</p><p>A woman who was just about to get into her car stopped to talk to her. Blue faltered.</p><p>Oh, no. Oh, <em> no. </em></p><p>
  <em> Ohno-ohno-ohno-ohno--ohfuckohfuckohfuck--</em>
</p><p>“Yes, ma’am,” Blue greeted. She resolved not to address her as ‘Mrs. Parrish.’ It made things a bit awkward, and made it sound like Blue didn’t remember who she was, but it was worth it. How far behind her were Gansey and Noah? Shit. Shit, shit.</p><p>“Awful lot of groceries. Need a hand?”</p><p>She almost laughed in her face. Was Mrs. Parrish asking if she wanted help? How much had changed after all of these years? Blue felt cynical as all hell as her love for and defensiveness of Adam rose in her throat. Sure, maybe she didn’t know everything. She didn’t need to, because she did know that she’d stand with Adam in the face of it all.</p><p>
  <em>If we’re talking ‘awful lot,’ let’s talk about how it sounds like you care an ‘awful lot.‘ That’s new, when did that happen? When Adam moved out?</em>
</p><p>“I’m okay. But that’s real appreciated.”</p><p>“Are you biking again? I could give you a ride home.” Mrs. Parrish seemed insistent on helping. It made more bitterness flare inside of Blue -- why did she want to help with something like this, something that didn’t matter nearly as much as loving Adam? Protecting Adam, caring for Adam? Where was this attitude when Adam lived with her? It was an irritation most righteous, but Blue bit her tongue.</p><p>
  <em> It was very interesting to see you at the supermarket, Mrs. Parrish. It’s even more interesting that you wanna help so bad. You never helped anyone, because don’t you hate help? Didn’t you raise your son to not accept help of any kind? Especially help with--</em>
</p><p>“No, it’s really alright.” She started to inch away. “I should just be going.”</p><p>Mrs. Parrish’s expression pinched up for a moment. “Adam’s got a phone. I reckon you might--”</p><p>“Jeez, Blue,” Noah said, “You walk <em> fast.</em>”</p><p>She wanted to evaporate then and there.</p>
<hr/><p>Ronan realized that Adam Parrish had an accent. He only heard the tiniest twang of it as he spoke, but Jesus. Jesus God fuckshit shitfuck <em> damn. </em></p>
<hr/><p>Noah and Gansey stepped up beside Blue. She was talking to a thin lady by her car, and if Noah didn’t know her any better, he wouldn’t have been able to tell how lightly frantic her expression was. It didn’t look like the woman was <em> bothering-</em>bothering her, but still -- he had jogged a little to catch up to her and Gansey followed suit.</p><p>“Oh,” the woman said, looking between the three of them, probably realizing that they were all together. She pointedly looked at Blue’s grocery bags, then at himself and Gansey. “You boys oughta help her with these.”</p><p>She said ‘boys’ in a very sharp way, a way that Blue more than likely hated the implications of. Gansey grimaced and tried to politely introduce himself to dissolve the tension. Noah knew better, though.</p><p>“Nah, she’s fine,” he assured her. “She chooses to do these things.” The woman gave him a strange look before turning her attention back to Blue.</p><p>“I’ll let you three get along, then,” she said, stepping back to her car. “Maybe I’ll let Adam know we bumped into each other.” </p><p>“Maybe y’will,” Blue responded. It was a little cold, deeply accented, and Gansey looked kind of shocked.</p><p>Noah just wondered how she knew Adam -- how she knew Blue. Maybe she was an old high school teacher of theirs, he supposed. Blue was eager to get them away, though; she ushered them forward with a quiet ‘go, go, <em>go.’ </em>He glanced over his shoulder to find the woman watching them walk away, and when she noticed him looking, she hastily ducked into her car.</p><p>Weird.</p><p>“You two were discussing Adam?” Gansey asked.</p><p>“We can talk in the car,” Blue muttered.</p>
<hr/><p>But in the car, all she said was that they knew each other. It didn’t explain why they were talking about Adam. Gansey could tell that something was being hidden from him -- and truthfully, it kind of stung. He thought that he’d been doing well with being vulnerable towards Blue, and it made her reticence more painful than it probably should have been.</p><p>He didn’t force her to explain. </p>
<hr/><p>The way Gansey just looked at her, with his expression tinted with disappointment, made her feel worse than she thought it would. She had her reasons, though! </p><p>If she told them that that was Adam’s mom, then they’d ask her why it was such a big deal that they got away quickly. Then they’d suspect things about his family. Then those suspicions could get back to Adam, or they’d change how they treated him. And, even if she’d just been forward from the start, she’d have to tell them not to bring it up with Adam -- and that would ultimately raise questions, too. </p><p>As they drove back to the Barns, Blue sank into her seat and watched Henrietta pass her by. Not telling Gansey and Noah was one thing. Deciding to tell (or not tell) Adam was a whole other.</p>
<hr/><p>[ 1 New Voicemail ]</p><p>
  <em> “Adam. This is the new landline number, I know it’s the first time I’ve called, but -- I bumped into Blue ‘Sarchen’ at the market earlier. She was with two young men and, ah, one of ‘em was wearing a Warren Grey University sweater.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Made me think of you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Best not to call back.” </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>Adam had let his phone ring. Ronan twitched an expectant eyebrow at him, as if expecting him to take the convenient way out of their -- what were they doing? Staring at one another? -- out of their moment. Was it a moment? What <em> was </em> a moment, anyway?</p><p>He didn’t back off. He didn’t bail, not again.</p><p>At that point, he had been done treating Ronan’s hand for a good few moments. And yet, Adam still held it -- he had one hand under his wrist and the other over his knuckles.</p><p>Adam’s chest was tight. He willed his father to get out of his head. He was <em> tired </em>of hearing his bitterness, he was tired of feeling like he would always be watching, like he would always be able to find out, always, always, always--</p><p>Ronan’s eyes helped him forget that the tiny closed space of the bathroom wasn’t the tiny closed space of the Parrish’s doublewide. So he focused on Ronan’s eyes.</p><p>But then, they closed.</p><p><em> What are </em> you <em> doing? </em></p><p>
  <em> What I know how to do. Dreaming. </em>
</p><p>...Adam closed his eyes, too.</p><p>
  <em> What are you dreaming of? </em>
</p><p>He imagined asking Ronan. He imagined how the words would taste like honey and freshly-cut strawberries. He imagined how the hope that would swell in his chest and--</p><p>“Ronan! Adam! We’re--Jesus! Jesus, what happened to this--”</p><p>Adam snapped his eyes open and dropped Ronan’s hand.</p><p>(So much for not bailing a second time.)</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>my heart hurts every day for adam parrish.</p><p>thank you for reading :-) your guys’ comments have seriously made me so happy these past few days! my mental health is not the sexiest thing in the world rn but i turn to writing for fun, and it’s so so so validating to hear your guys’ excitement. thanks for making this all worth it, i love interacting with you all.</p><p>also! so i got a question about a noah/henry romance!! :0 is that something you guys are interested in?!?! because i am mad down 2 explore it if people would like to read the content! lemme know !! xxx</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. why’d it go wrong, when it should have gone right?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>content warning: in the middle of the chapter, adam gets anxious about his parents. at the end of the chapter, gansey has a panic attack about bees.</p><p>following the rest of the day + evening at the barns — ronan and gansey talk, adam checks his phone, blue and gansey try to stargaze</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Blue thought that Ronan had been so grouchy about them coming to the farm property because he was a sulky dude that spent his birthdays in isolation. Emphasis on isolation; the place was very clearly his family’s countryside getaway from the hubbub of whatever city Ronan grew up in. She could tell because she knew Ronan was rich, which naturally meant that he and his family--</p><p>...Oh, but the pictures on the walls -- </p><p>and the muddy kid shoes in the corner --</p><p>and the candle and the flowers and the photo --</p><p>and the shattered mirror in the hallway --</p><p>...</p><p>So Blue didn’t have everything as all-figured-out as she thought she did. And it was a tough situation because -- god, damn, <em> jeez. </em>It pretty much turned out that she didn’t know <em> anything. </em></p><p>Problem was, as much as she wanted to know about the three boys in the family pictures framed on the walls, she knew Ronan would never tell her anything. She also knew that it would be wrong to ask Gansey for insight -- he obviously had questions about Adam and was refraining from asking her them. Pressing him for answers meant unfairness and imbalance. Blue wasn’t willing to tip the scales any further, especially after how she brushed him off in the grocery store and on the drive back. She couldn’t expect answers if she refused to give them, too.</p><p>Blue resolved to let herself quietly wonder about Ronan. It was all she <em> could </em>do, anyway.</p><p>Once in the farmhouse again, Blue and Noah put up the groceries, into a fridge that was completely covered with magnets and photos and scribbled drawings, yet somehow fully empty and perfectly clean on the inside. Their silently exchanged glances, innocently curious and almost a little concerned, asked each other all of the questions that they couldn’t say out loud. Gansey was in the other room, sweeping up shards of glass into a dustpan. Ronan was somewhere around the house, out of sight but potentially in earshot.</p><p>(Blue hoped that Mrs. Parrish didn’t actually try to reach out to Adam.)</p><hr/><p>Gansey didn’t know how to help him.</p><p>He wanted to, though -- he desperately, fervently, genuinely wanted to be there for Ronan. It was just impossible to glean what he needed when he wouldn’t talk about any of it. Despite Ronan’s secrecy, Gansey knew that being submerged in memories had taken its toll on him, for the splintered mirror was evidence of such.</p><p>Truthfully, the broken glass was the only mess that he knew he could confidently clean up.</p><p>On top of his oldest friend’s oldest emotional trials, there was also the problem that Adam posed. Gansey still couldn’t figure him out, nor could he fathom why he stayed behind when Ronan wanted to be alone, or why Blue had clammed up in the car after her encounter with that woman, or why they were talking about Adam--</p><p>It felt as though everybody knew something but him. And it was a rather (dare he say) shitty feeling.</p><p>But even shittier than a feeling of removal was the mindset that he was entitled to his friends’ problems. Gansey tried not to take it personally: he tried not to be hurt that Ronan was off with Adam and Adam was off with Ronan, because he was glad that they were getting along again, after Adam’s sudden departure two weeks ago and how Ronan had acted out afterwards. He tried not to be hurt that Blue didn’t want to talk to him about Adam, because Blue knew him more and it was fine for her to keep to herself. He tried not to be hurt that Noah was coping with it all so well (getting along with Ronan, with Blue, with Adam) while he was downright floundering. Gansey tried not to feel so damn useless, because if he was needed, they’d ask him to show up.</p><p>It was difficult because Gansey disliked the waiting game. Especially when he knew that Ronan was hurting.</p><p>He was sweeping up the last of the glass when Blue and Noah emerged from the kitchen and when Ronan and Adam rounded a corner. Blue was eating a cup of yogurt, Noah and Adam both had their hands in their pockets, Ronan had his arms folded over his chest. Gansey righted his posture -- looked between his companions -- tabled his feelings -- and smiled, easy and practiced. This was his role, this was what he was good at. He was an orchestrator, a coach, a hopeful man trying his best to build bridges between separate islands.</p><p>“Well,” he started, dusting his hands off on each other, “how do we all feel about a late lunch? Or would it count as an early dinner?”</p><hr/><p>It was the middle of fall and it was getting to be pretty cold, but Ronan was insistent on making a fire in the backyard. Gansey didn’t protest, Blue was always happy to be outside, and Noah was consistently easygoing. Of course, given the sheer size of the pasture, the ‘backyard’ was a pretty vague description -- more specifically, the group hunkered down in a dirt patch just a short distance away from the farmhouse. </p><p>Adam Parrish wasn’t exactly religious, but watching Ronan Lynch start a fire was a strangely religious experience.</p><p>He threw firewood onto the floor, then carefully arranged it. He dumped kindling onto the wood and shoved it into crevices, then slowly lit a bundle of dead grass. He shoved the burning mass into the middle of the fire structure, then diligently prodded the heart of it with a stick. Ronan was haphazard and careless action immediately followed by meticulous attention to detail. He was a contradiction, a walking paradox.</p><p>Adam wanted to unfold him in his hands and live in the double-pointed oval of the Lynch venn diagram. </p><p>In his head, circle A was everything that made him sharp, circle B was everything that made him soft. The overlap was everything that made him both -- what made him <em> him. </em>He was trying to understand Ronan; the babysitter Ronan, the street racer Ronan; the Henrietta farm Ronan; the substance party Ronan.</p><p>“--fuck are you staring at?” Ronan snapped. Adam blinked and realized that it was directed at him, because Blue and Noah and Gansey were inside collecting the hot dogs and marshmallows and whatever else they brought. </p><p>The cruel twist of Ronan’s mouth fell within circle A.</p><p>Despite the category, Adam minutely smiled.</p><p>The surprised way Ronan’s prickly expression blunted fell within circle B.</p><p>Then Ronan cussed something brutal and kicked over the firewood. The autumn wind had refused to let the flames properly catch and Ronan, openly frustrated, stormed back to the farmhouse. It was a circle A reaction.</p><p>Adam didn’t know why his smile got a fraction wider, but as he followed him inside, it did.</p><hr/><p>With the fire out of the question, they settled for a frozen pizza nuked in the oven and Uno on the living room floor. </p><p>Ronan remembered when Declan first taught him how to play.</p><p>“Perhaps we can try again once summertime rolls back around,” Gansey suggested. He slid his eyes towards Ronan, and though Ronan caught his glance in the corner of his eye, he just stared down at his hand of cards. Gansey was asking Ronan if they were welcome.</p><p>Ronan didn’t have an answer. He himself didn’t feel welcome, and he grew up under that roof. It was just fucking <em> different </em> -- different from what he remembered and different from what he imagined. The place felt sterile and empty. Whoever Niall arranged to maintain the place or whoever Declan called to clean the place up had done such a good job that there wasn’t a single bug in the windowsills.</p><p>It was bullshit. Where were the cobwebs and the dust? Where was the proof that the past five years happened? Ronan felt--</p><p>He felt as hollow as the skeleton that his home had become.</p><p>Gansey kept looking at him; Ronan blocked Blue from playing a card. She grumbled in indignation and put down her cards to rip a bite out of her pizza.</p><p>“We should stop by Nino’s before we leave,” she submitted. “There’s nothing else like it.”</p><p>Noah piped up. “Nino’s?”</p><p>“A pizza place in town,” Adam explained, taking his turn since Blue was skipped. Ronan caught the way he defty flipped a card onto the pile.</p><p>“With the best sweet tea in the whole county,” Blue drawled, her accent made thick with emphasis. It made Adam snort and Gansey grin. Ronan raised his eyebrows. “I worked there in high school. Everyone ate at Nino’s.”</p><p>Noah shook his head. “I can’t believe we’re where you guys grew up. How does that just happen, y’know?”</p><p>“I’d dare to call it a coincidence, if I believed in such things.” Gansey didn’t bother to suppress his gleeful smile. He played his turn, then Ronan reversed the direction, and Blue pinched his arm.</p><p>“You’re an asshole,” she said to Ronan. “And you, are you implying that our friendships were predetermined?” She said to Gansey. He looked wistful.</p><p>“Is that crazy? Too hard to believe?”</p><p>Blue seemed to think about it. Then she shrugged. “I’ve heard crazier.” </p><p>They smiled at one another and Ronan wanted to gag.</p><p>But he also wondered what Adam thought about it, because thinking about Adam was easier than thinking about his dad’s shit upstairs, about his childhood bedroom, about his mom’s stuff with his dad’s, about every photo album and every dead crop in the field and every weathered barn and--</p><p>No longer invested in Uno (not that he really was to begin with), Ronan dropped his cards and hauled himself to his feet. Back outside, back to the deck at the back of the house. He’d been avoiding going upstairs, knowing that even more ghosts were waiting to be disturbed -- he was just incapable of sitting still.</p><hr/><p>When Ronan left, Gansey waited exactly ten minutes before excusing himself, too.</p><p>He found Ronan leaning against one of the pillars of the wooden patio cover, looking out over the field that stretched into the horizon. The skyline was forked with trees and the pastures were dotted with structures, barely illuminated by the moon and the stars.</p><p>Gansey stepped forward to join him.</p><p>They shared a few long moments of silence.</p><p>“Ronan.”</p><p>He grunted in response.</p><p>“Are--” Ah, Gansey almost said ‘we.’ This wasn’t about him. “--<em>you </em>alright?”</p><p>“Fuckin’ peachy. Why are you asking?”</p><p>
  <em> Because you’ve been distant all weekend -- actually, for the past two, maybe even almost three, weeks. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Because you don’t seem to understand that you’re allowed to not be alright. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Because you’ve not been yourself. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Because I’m concerned. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Because I care about you, but you seem intent on not letting me. </em>
</p><p>Gansey pressed his thumb to his mouth.</p><p>“I’m just certain that this is all rather overwhelming.”</p><p>“No shit,” Ronan said. And that was it.</p><p>Gansey furrowed his brow -- so he’d be doing the talking. That was fine.</p><p>“My intention wasn’t to make things more difficult for you,” he continued, “but I recognize that I may have done that anyway. I overstepped by inviting the others, Ronan. I apologize.”</p><p>Ronan’s distant stare hardened. Gansey took a breath.</p><p>“I’m prepared to drive us back tonight, so you can have the rest of his weekend to yourself,” he said. Softer now. “We’ll leave the moment you -- I don’t know, swipe your nose with your thumb. That’s a good signal, don’t you think?” His laugh was a soundless, uncertain thing. “Or now, even. We can be gone before you’re even inside again.”</p><p>Ronan raised a hand and inspected it. In the flickering porch light, Gansey could see that it was bandaged -- and it was bandaged with more care than Ronan would ever show himself. It was Adam’s work. It had to be.</p><p>Something stirred in his chest. Surely, it wasn’t jealousy. Ronan having friends other than Kavinsky and his goons was a fantastic thing. But perhaps it wasn’t Adam that he was jealous of -- perhaps it was Ronan?</p><p>He didn’t know. God, he didn’t know. It wasn’t important.</p><p>Ronan still didn’t respond. Gansey assumed that that was his answer, so he apologized again, and he pivoted--</p><p>“Don’t.”</p><p>It was like electricity rippling through his spine, making him stand straight. Gansey turned.</p><p>“Don’t?”</p><p>“Stick around.”</p><p>He shook his head, not following. “Don’t stick around?”</p><p>“For fuck’s sake -- don’t leave. Stick around,” Ronan barked. “Jesus shit, Gansey, should I spell it out, too?”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“<em>Oh.” </em>Ronan’s mimicry was cold. “Look, you know goddamn well why I didn’t want you coming out here.”</p><p>Gansey’s expression was grim as he nodded. Yes, he knew why Ronan did not want him venturing into the countryside, of all places. But his fragile mortality didn’t matter to him nearly as much as Ronan did.</p><p>“I’m aware, but ‘out here’ is still your home.”</p><p>Ronan went quiet.</p><p>“Okay,” Gansey started again. “Okay. Do you--do you need anything?”</p><p>“A drink.” He paused. “I don’t fuckin’ know. Answers.”</p><p>This, this was getting somewhere. Hope flickered inside of him as he stood beside Ronan again.</p><p>“What are your questions?”</p><p>...The hope was promptly extinguished when Ronan faced him. Nothing could have prepared Gansey for the amount of <em> pain </em>in Ronan’s eyes. An icy lake that melted in the middle of winter, molten silver-blue gone shockingly dull--</p><p>Gansey’s heart ached with how quiet his voice was.</p><p>“What the hell am I supposed to do now, man?”</p><hr/><p>Adam checked his phone. </p><p>Adam listened to his voicemail. </p><p>Adam set down his phone.</p><p>Adam turned his hands into fists in his lap.</p><p>Adam closed his eyes.</p><p>(<em>Best not to call back,</em> she said. Not that he would, not that he wanted to -- but she still called. Did she know? Did <em> he </em>know? The panic, the fear, the dread swelled in his chest. His cheek ached and his ribs throbbed in memory. Did Blue--)</p><p>When he snapped them open again, it was because Blue had reached over and clamped her hand on top of his knee. He wanted to rip away from her, he didn’t like being touched, but it was Blue -- it was Blue, it was Blue, it was Blue. He calmed himself as best as he could by reminding himself that Noah was watching, but his fingers still didn’t uncurl.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she murmured, looking and sounding guilty. “I didn’t say anything. She stopped me, she tried to talk to me, I -- I shut it down and left. I promise. She doesn’t know, Adam.”</p><p>It was Blue. He could trust Blue.</p><p>“They don’t know,” she said again, and he knew that she wasn’t referring to his parents. She meant Gansey and Noah.</p><p>It was Blue.</p><p>He trusted Blue.</p><p>“Okay,” he exhaled. Adam opened a fist. He set it on top of hers. She twisted her wrist around so that their palms were pressed flushed; he threaded his fingers through hers.</p><p>(They didn’t know. He didn’t know. Adam didn’t have to hide because not only was Robert Parrish <em> not </em> looking for him, but he also definitely didn’t care enough to look.)</p><p>Adam’s breath was a shuddery thing.</p><p>(Robert Parrish didn’t know that Adam was in Henrietta, and he wasn’t going to find out, because there was no way for that information to get back to him. Adam was safe. Adam was--)</p><p>Blue scooted closer. She sat on her knees -- she wrapped her arms around his shoulders -- she pulled him close and he -- he sank into her hug and --</p><p>(It was everything he never got from his parents. It was the kind of comfort his mother was supposed to give him. It was familiar, and it was safe.)</p><p>He closed his eyes and hugged her back.</p><hr/><p>[ Henry ]</p><p>
  <em> Sir Czerny! How goes the weekend getaway? Litchfield After Litchfield After Dark is an unfortunate thing. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A small price, of course. We do as we must to please the masses. </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> oh man </em>
</p><p>
  <em> it goes </em>
</p><p>[ Henry ]</p><p>
  <em> Three guesses. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 1 Gansey Boy and Lynch are mysterious. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 2 Wendybird and Parrish are mysterious. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 3 There are many cows. </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> two out of three :) </em>
</p><p>[ Henry ] </p><p>
  <em> My god. Is it Richardman and Wendybird? Parrish and Lynch? </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> actually </em>
</p><p>
  <em> yes </em>
</p><p>
  <em> but the wrong one was the cows :( </em>
</p><p>[ Henry ]</p><p>
  <em> Ah, a true shame </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Well, regards to the merrymen! We must reconvene once you have all returned. </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> hey, bet on it! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i’ll let the gang know </em>
</p><p>[ Henry ]</p><p>
  <em> The Gang! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What a ring </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Indeed, do let The Gang know </em>
</p><hr/><p>He didn’t cry or some shit like that, because fuck if he was gonna break down over his childhood. It was done. He was twenty-one, his dad was dead, his mom wasn’t going to miraculously recover, his relationship with his older brother was in fucking tatters. Whatever. <em> Whatever.  </em></p><p>Tears wouldn’t change shit, so Ronan Lynch didn’t waste his time shedding them.</p><p>When he and Gansey returned to the living room, it was to find Noah on his phone and Adam and Blue in a hug. </p><p>Jesus.</p><p>(What did it mean? Did it even mean anything? Fuck. Fuck overthinking. Fucking--)</p><p>Ronan obnoxiously cleared his throat, then coughed as rudely as he could, and the two of them unravelled from one another. Blue flipped Ronan off and touched Adam’s shoulder. But Adam looked distant -- and Ronan recognized the expression. It was the same one that he had on in the bathroom, the same one that was paired with those three words.</p><p>
  <em> Home is hard. </em>
</p><p>Ronan blinked.</p><p>Adam blinked back.</p><hr/><p>They all set up to sleep in the living room. Ronan found an air mattress, so alongside the two sofas and the armchair paired with the ottoman, a total of five beds were thrown together. Blue volunteered to share the mattress with Adam, since nobody else had seemed very keen on sharing a bed.</p><p><em> (Men, </em> she thought. <em> They were all so awkward and repressed.) </em></p><p>It was in the middle of the night, though, that Blue rolled out of bed and tiptoed out of the living room. It was hard not to disturb Adam, a notoriously light sleeper -- but she managed. It was helpful that the kitchen light was left on.</p><p>Blue just needed air. Maybe yogurt, but mostly air. Her heart ached with how much she missed the way the stars looked from Henrietta, and now that she was back, it was… It was hitting her. Hard.</p><p>She hadn’t been home since she moved out in the summertime, which meant that she hadn’t seen her family in almost three months. Blue called often and texted and sent pictures and updates, but still -- it wasn’t the same as seeing them. She thought about maybe slipping away from the group to say hello, about maybe asking Gansey to drop her off before they went to Nino’s or--</p><p>“Jane?”</p><p>Blue blinked the sleep out of her eyes and squinted against the kitchen light. She walked in to find Gansey leaning against a counter, a mug with steam curling off of it in his hand. </p><p>“Oh,” she whispered, “you’re awake. Hi.”</p><p>“Hello, yourself,” he greeted softly. He was fantastically chipper at -- she took her phone out of her sweater pocket and checked the time -- 3:33 in the morning. </p><p>“You can’t sleep either?” Blue shuffled to the fridge, deciding ‘yes’ on the yogurt. She plucked a cup out and carefully shut the door. Gansey looked poised to respond, then he glanced towards the dark living room, and then he pointed towards the back porch door. </p><p>Blue smiled.</p><hr/><p>“I should have known that you’d be up.” </p><p>They sat on the porch steps and Blue had her sweater pulled down over her knees as she ate her yogurt.</p><p>“Ronan is awake too, actually,” Gansey said. He was looking down into his tea when she peeked over. “I heard him go upstairs.”</p><p>Blue was quiet for a moment. What was upstairs? She knew she couldn’t ask, but…</p><p>“Is Ronan okay?” </p><p>Gansey took a sip of his tea.</p><p>“Is Adam?”</p><p>Blue ate a spoonful of yogurt.</p><p>And that was basically their dilemma.</p><p>“I feel as though we just told each other ‘no,’” Gansey murmured. </p><p>“Not technically.”</p><p>He spared her a smile. Blue spared him a sigh.</p><p>“I missed the stars,” she confessed, changing the subject. “They’re not the same at school. Too many lights.” She could feel Gansey looking at her as she gazed up into the sky.</p><p>“Do you miss Henrietta?”</p><p>“Of course. My family is here.” A mosquito flew around them -- she smacked her calf, thinking she felt it there. Still hearing the buzz, Blue swatted at the air around her ear.</p><p>“You’re close to them?”</p><p>“Exceptionally so.” Blue evaded elaboration by pointing out a few constellations with her spoon.</p><p>Gansey asked her how she knew so many -- Blue shrugged and just said that she’s always loved the stars.</p><p>“Have you ever laid down and <em> only </em>saw stars? Just stars. No buildings, no trees, nothing in sight but the sky.”</p><p>“I can’t say that I have.” He sounded so genuinely invested in what she was saying, it made her feel warm. Blue couldn’t keep herself from smiling.</p><p>“It’s everything,” she gushed, too half-awake to have a filter. “Everyone says you look <em> up </em>at stars, but when you think about them like you’re looking down at them, like you’re falling into them -- it’s different. It’s one of my favorite things.”</p><p>“It sounds incredible,” Gansey murmured. “I’d love to feel that way.”</p><p>“Okay, well -- come on, then.” Blue couldn’t contain her eagerness as she put her yogurt cup onto the stoop and stood up. They were in a perfect spot for it. Gansey looked surprised.</p><p>“You’re not going to finish this?” He sounded strangely concerned about it.</p><p>“The fruit is the worst part.” She wrinkled her nose and offered him her spoon. “Want it?”</p><p>He scraped the rest of the yogurt out, ate it, then stood up with her.</p><hr/><p>They walked a little further out into the field. When Blue suddenly stopped and laid down in the grass, Gansey almost threw caution to the wind to do the same. He was encouraged by how content she sounded when she sighed, like wild raspberries fresh off the vine -- like the air after rain -- like --</p><p>Blue’s voice was piercing.</p><p>“Oh, no. Don’t tell me your pajama pants are designer and you’re afraid of getting dirt on them.”</p><p>Gansey winced. Was that what she thought?</p><p>“No, it’s--”</p><p>He swept his foot over the grass and stooped down, squinting at the dirt that got revealed. It was pointless, given how dark it was. He wouldn’t be able to see a hornet’s burrow without a flashlight, and even then, combing through the whole area would take far too long. Oh, well. Extreme caution was not his favorite thing -- not when it meant sacrificing truly living.</p><p>He wanted to see Blue’s stars.</p><p>“It’s nothing,” Gansey said.</p><p>And he laid down beside her.</p><p>“Well,” Blue responded. Between spells of silence, she pointed out more constellations. Her arms and legs were splayed out beside her, while Gansey’s ankles were crossed and his hands were folded over his stomach.</p><p>(If something happened, Blue would surely get Ronan. Ronan knew that he kept an EpiPen in the glove of the Pig. He had another in his overnight bag. Ronan would know what to do.)</p><p>Blue whispered the names of stars. He tried to lose himself in her voice.</p><p>(He could imagine how it would happen: suddenly, he would react to being stung and he’d have to quickly explain himself to Blue -- he could surely get the words ‘get Ronan’ and ‘EpiPen’ and ‘wasp’ out before his throat closed up, right? Right. Of course.)</p><p>Blue said something about a particularly bright star actually being a planet.</p><p>(Unless he was stung multiple times. If a string of insects crawled out of their burrow, where would it be? Was the hole beneath his shoulder? Under the small of his back? Right beneath his head, or his calf, or--)</p><p>Blue was quiet. She exhaled peacefully. It was a lovely sound.</p><p>(Such little time, such little time. There would be such little time for him to react, less for Blue to react, even less for Ronan to react. God, Ronan would be pissed if he were stung. He would be so angry. Gansey could already hear him yelling. He could already hear the buzzing. But no, no, no. If there were any bugs out, it surely just had to be mosquitos. Blue had killed one earlier. Just mosquitos, not wasps, not hornets, not bees. Mosquitos.)</p><p>Something brushed his arm. </p><p>Gansey flinched.</p><p>“Oh -- I’m sorry,” she said.</p><p>Blue.</p><p>Blue, Blue,<em> Blue. </em></p><p>Gansey hadn’t realized that he wrenched his eyes shut and completely tensed up. Her voice was gentle, completely unlike the angry swarm of not-mosquitos in his ears. Oh, <em> in </em> his ears -- Jesus, Jesus--</p><p>“Are you -- Gansey, are you okay? You’re--you’re shaking.” Blue’s fingers touched his skin again, feeling infinitely better than hundreds of legs, then suddenly disappeared. “I’m sorry, is it okay if I touch you?”</p><p>He hummed his confirmation. Blue held his arm and gently squeezed. He barely felt it among the stingers, needling into his skin and making him dizzy and short of breath, but it was there. It was solid, she was real.</p><p>“Gansey,” she said again, more forcefully. It cut through the buzzing a little more and he reached for her presence. Blue. “I’m right here.”</p><p>But they already had him, didn’t they? They were on his legs, on his arms, crawling through his hair, Blue was touching him and they were attacking her too and Ronan was going to be furious -- Gansey gasped -- when had he stopped inhaling?</p><p>“Gansey,” Blue pleaded, “you got to breathe. With me, c’mon, together.” She grabbed his hands. She tugged on them. Suddenly he was sitting upright and--her hands--his cheeks--they were cold, cold against his searing skin--</p><p>Gansey finally pried open his eyes. He held her forearms, desperate for something to anchor him to reality. </p><p>There were no bugs. There were no bugs. There was only--</p><p>
  <em> Blue. </em>
</p><p>His explanation was raspy, weak, croaky, and all-around pathetic. </p><p>“I believe I’m having a panic attack, Jane,” he whispered.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>sorry this upload is a few hours late!!! thank you guys for your patience and interest, per usual. :-)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. oh, listen, ember, i need more kinder than you have given me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>another day at the barns, another set of coincidences</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Blue Sargent didn’t know much about panic attacks. She just remembered that, when Adam was in his head, he was particular about when and where he was touched -- her ‘just act, don’t ask’ tendency didn’t always fly. Given the darkness, trying to touch Gansey where he could see her didn’t work out, so Blue had to use her words. </p><p>Thankfully, they worked.</p><p>The porch light flickered, a beacon in the night, as Blue coached Gansey through catching his breath. </p><p>She rubbed his back, squeezed his hand, stayed as close as he wanted her to be. Eventually, once he was steady enough, she managed to wind one of his arms around her shoulders. They walked back to the farmhouse like that -- him leaning on her, her with a hand on his back. She didn’t know what had triggered his panic attack and she couldn’t identify anything strange in their immediate surroundings. Did she say something wrong? Something about the stars? Blue didn’t know. </p><p>But she wanted to.</p><p>It just wasn’t a great time for questions. It seemed like there never was a great time for questions.</p><p>When they made it to the porch, Ronan threw the door for them with impressive timing. He’d come downstairs? She opened her mouth to speak, but she quickly realized that he looked--</p><p>“What the <em> fuck </em> were you doing out there?”</p><p>More pissed than she’s ever seen him before.</p><p>Gansey stiffened beside her. </p><p>Blue scrunched up her nose. “Nothing,” she answered, honestly and quickly, but it was weird because she would have much rather said something like ‘screw you, what’s your problem’ or ‘none of your business.’ She knew that the place was Ronan’s family’s estate, or whatever, but what was the harm in walking into the field? To him, that is -- not Gansey. What was the harm to <em> Ronan? </em> “We didn’t do anything.”</p><p>“Not you. Fuck you,” he snapped at her. Offense flared in her chest but shock kept her from interrupting. “I don’t give a shit about what you’re doing out there. I mean <em> you.” </em> Ronan jabbed a finger at Gansey.</p><p>She blinked again. Blue was more out of the loop than she thought. </p><p>Gansey’s voice was soft. “I just--”</p><p>“You just what? You’d <em> like </em>to get murdered, or some shit?” Ronan seethed, steamrolling over whatever he was going to say. It made Blue both even more confused and even more defensive -- and she was beginning to feel upset at both of them. It helped her summon her voice.</p><p>“Murdered?” She repeated incredulously. “<em> Murdered </em> by <em> what?” </em></p><p>“You wanna fucking tap out on me, Gansey? Is that it?”</p><p>He was hurt, they both were. She looked between them and she could see it on their faces; Ronan’s hurt was expressed in anger and Gansey’s was solemn.</p><p>“What are you talking about?” Blue demanded, looking at Ronan. “What is he talking about?“ She demanded, looking at Gansey. When he didn’t respond, her frustration boiled over and she ripped herself from his side. “I’m right here and I’d like to be part of this conversation, <em>thanks.</em>”</p><p>It left her feeling cold. It left Gansey looking even more hurt.</p><p>“He’s fucking allergic to bees, is the shit I’m talking about.”</p><p>Blue’s jaw went slack. Her anger zeroed in on Gansey.</p><p>“You’re--this is the <em> countryside, </em>Gansey! They nest in the ground and--”</p><p>“I know,” he whispered.</p><p>“They’re still fucking active at night.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>She pressed a bewildered palm to her forehead as she processed it. Gansey. Allergic. To bees. Allergic to bees. Gansey. Dying. Gansey dying? A dead Gansey? No. Hah. No. God. What? “Do you even have an EpiPen? You could have given someone an EpiPen--”</p><p>“I <em> know-- </em>”</p><p>“Motherfuck, man. This is why I didn’t want you to fuckin’--”</p><p>“--you just walked into an open field with me and you’re <em> allergic </em>to--“</p><p>“I know!”</p><p>...Blue thought she knew what Gansey sounded like when he was upset. When they were at the substance party, his voice was cold and even and processed and -- and unlike any tone of his that she had heard before. This, though? </p><p>It was desperate, frustrated, vulnerable. It was a wound that had yet to heal being torn open all over again.</p><p>It gripped her heart and yanked.</p><p>Blue looked to Ronan for some clue about how to proceed, but he just kept glaring at Gansey, who had steadied himself on the bannister of the porch and scrubbed a hand down his face.</p><p>“I’m aware,” he started, “of the dangers that this location poses to my life. Of course I’m aware.”</p><p>“You sure as fuck aren’t acting like it. Dumbass.”</p><p>Blue shoved her elbow into Ronan’s side. Ronan basically snarled at her. Gansey didn’t notice -- he was looking out over the farm.</p><p>“It is what it is,” he said.</p><p>“That’s bullshit and you know it.”</p><p>That time, Blue did not discreetly attack Ronan.</p><p>“He’s right,” she agreed, “this is reckless. This is--this is just plain--”</p><p>“Cavalier?” Gansey suggested, looking over at her with strange humor in his voice and eyes. She shivered against the cold.</p><p>“I was going to say <em> impetuous.” </em></p><p>“Just fucking say stupid,” Ronan grumbled. It was a slightly muffled response; when she looked over, he was biting at the leather bands on his wrists.</p><p>Gansey sighed. It was a shuddery noise, it was a tired noise. He was still the rumpled and wrinkled version of himself that she woke up to find in the kitchen, that she comforted in the field. He was, however, very clearly trying to iron himself out -- and Blue felt bad. He was fighting for composure, right after a panic attack. And the way she and Ronan cornered him with their frustrations was the reason why.</p><p>(Guilt shredded her insides.)</p><p>“Ronan knows,” Gansey murmured. “My EpiPens -- yes, I have some -- they’re not a guarantee. Not after how many times I’ve already been stung.”</p><p>(Guilt shredded her insides <em> and </em> it chewed them up into mulch.)</p><p>
  <em> What do you mean? How many times have you been stung? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Where are your EpiPens? I want to know anyway. </em>
</p><p><em>Are you</em> <em>okay?</em></p><p>There really was never a great time for questions.</p><p>Blue couldn’t imagine someone like Gansey dying. Really, she couldn’t imagine anyone she knew dying. Gansey’s card, though -- the one that he pulled with Adam? It turned into a sick coincidence. It made her stomach turn.</p><p>“But it’s this--” Gansey gestured to the field. “--or live in a bubble.”</p><p>(Guilt shredded her insides, and then it chewed them up into mulch, and <em> then </em> it stomped all over her heart.)</p><p>He rubbed his eyes from beneath his glasses. “I apologize for worrying you both. In attempting to avoid this conversation, I’ve brought it about instead.”</p><p>“No,” Blue mumbled, shame in her posture but fire still in her chest, “I’m sorry. It’s -- it’s my fault.”</p><p>“You told me you two didn’t do shit in the field.”</p><p>“We looked at stars,” she defended, glowering at him. “I did, at least. I wanted to.”</p><p>“So did I.”</p><p>His tone was the most certain it had been all night. It was assurance. Why was <em> he </em> reassuring <em>her? </em>Oh, how backwards. Blue furrowed her brow; Ronan sneered again.</p><p>She felt like she was in over her head with them, with both of them, with all of them. She wished that Adam was there for her to trade glances with, or that Noah was there for her to lean on or to pat her hair -- or even Henry, to interrupt the heavy silence with some sort of witticism. It would have been easier with all of them around.</p><p>God, she was ready for bed.</p><hr/><p>When he slept, he dreamed a peculiar dream of Ronan Lynch: Ronan’s lips, soft on his calloused fingertips -- trees, whispering -- Ronan, whispering -- a flock of black birds launching out of the treetops -- screeching that drowned out the sound of Ronan’s voice before Adam could make out what was said. Then Adam was suddenly watching himself from outside his body. His second self was behind Ronan, touching his tattoo, mouthing the words--</p><p>
  <em> Unguibus et rostro. </em>
</p><p>It ruined him, the wondering feeling, the wanting feeling--</p><p>It was Ronan asking him now.</p><p>
  <em> What do you want, Adam? </em>
</p><p>He jolted awake.</p><p>And he stayed awake, not daring to push himself up to his forearms to check if Ronan was still asleep on one of the couches. </p><p>
  <em> Unguibus et rostro. </em>
</p><p>Adam didn’t know where the phrase came from, because he certainly didn’t recall reading it in his Latin textbook. </p><p>
  <em> Unguibus et rostro. </em>
</p><p>Adam didn’t know why the words seemed to fit so properly in his mouth when he tried rolling them between his lips and teeth. </p><p>
  <em> Unguibus et rostro. </em>
</p><p>...</p><p>Adam didn’t know what time it was when Blue climbed back onto her side of the air mattress, but he could tell that she’d been outside when a chill followed her under the covers. </p><p>Once she settled, they collided -- she hugged him and he tucked her clip-less head under his chin. Until the sun made the darkness melt away again, he held her. Or maybe she held him? They held each other, at least. It was familiar -- and in a time and place where Adam was uncertain about everything, the familiarity was grounding.</p><p>When he eventually fell back asleep, he dreamed the same dream of Ronan, all over again.</p><hr/><p>The second day at the Barns was easier, since they already established the awkwardness and stuff.</p><p>When Noah got up, Ronan and Gansey were still passed out on their respective couches, but Blue and Adam had made their bed. He could hear their voices coming from the kitchen, so he ventured in to join them. It was there that they were cooking breakfast; Blue was sitting on the counter, Adam was in front of the stove. After ‘good morning’s and a hug from Blue, they chatted -- Adam said that he noticed a leaky faucet and was going to see if he could help Ronan fix up a few things, Blue played with the idea of visiting her family before they left that evening.</p><p>It made Noah think. It made him wonder.</p><p>“Has Ronan ever talked about his family with you guys?” He was staring at yet another family picture on the wall opposite to him. The whole farmhouse was full of them: a blonde woman, a man who looked rather similar to Ronan, three kids.</p><p>Blue and Adam were both quiet. He didn’t know if it was because it was an uncomfortable question, or if it was because they were thinking, but Noah didn’t feel like it was a <em> bad </em>question to ask. He could see that they were all wondering the same things -- it was plain to see in everything everyone did. Even Gansey looked like he was walking lines around Ronan.</p><p>“No,” Blue said.</p><p>Adam shook his head.</p><p>“Me either,” he shrugged. “It just sorta hit me that I don’t really know anything about him, or Gansey,” he said, “or -- honestly, either of you.”</p><p>“That doesn’t mean that we’re not friends,” Blue protested. “Lots of friends don’t talk about family.” She was looking into her orange juice. Had he made her feel bad? Shit. Noah backpedaled as best as he could.</p><p>“Oh, no, you’re right. I know we’re friends. I just mean, like--” What <em> did </em>he mean? “I don’t know you guys the way you and Adam know each other. Or how Ronan and Gansey know each other, so--”</p><p>Noah grimaced. Not only was his clarification not helpful, but it was also kind of sad. Unhelpful, sad, an accident, and--</p><p>And, well. It was true.</p><p>Noah didn’t feel unwelcome or ignored, exactly, because nobody had been dismissive towards him -- he just felt like he blended in with the background a little. Not that he minded too much. There was no malicious intent in the simple fact that everyone was friends with each other before they met him. Noah knew that, and that was exactly why he hadn’t wanted to say anything.</p><p>“Noah,” Blue started. Her tone made him wince again, but he dug his grave, now he was going to have to lay in it. “I don’t know <em> anything </em>about Ronan’s family. Or Gansey’s. Hell, it was only last night that I found out that--”</p><p>She stopped herself short. Noah looked at Adam to see if he knew what she was going to say, but his eyebrows were raised, too.</p><p>“That?” Adam prompted.</p><p>Blue shook her head. Another thing Noah didn’t know.</p><p>“Sorry. It’s not my place to say.”</p><p>“Great pep talk, Blue,” Adam deadpanned. Noah didn’t know it before, but Adam was damn cheeky when he chose to be.</p><p>“Be quiet, you. I just meant that we’re not all<em> that </em> close.”</p><p>Noah managed a smile. It wasn’t a big one, but he tried.</p><p>“Not yet, at least?”</p><p>Blue managed a smile. “Not yet.”</p><p>“Oh, gag me,” Ronan suddenly interrupted from the archway. When they turned, Gansey was walking in, too. He was giving Ronan a stern look.</p><p>“Don’t be crass, it’s too early for that,” he insisted. “Sorry for interjecting. But I do support the idea of getting to know one another better.”</p><p>“What kind of middle school sleepover do you assholes think this is?” Ronan scoffed. He walked around the kitchen island, right up to Adam, and squinted at what he was cooking. “Are we playing Truth or Dare? Never Have I Ever? God, shut the fuck up.”</p><p>Blue snorted and began to kick her legs. “You are the only one talking, buddy.”</p><p>“And also, you forgot Twenty Questions,” Noah added. Ronan rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Or -- perhaps we could just talk,” Gansey suggested. He began opening cabinets and drawers. After a bit, he found the rest of the utensils and plates.</p><p>Cheeky Adam snorted. “Right. Because I’m sure <em> you </em>have a bunch of deep, dark secrets, all ready to share off the top of your head, Gansey.”</p><p>Gansey’s smile was so cheery that it was almost creepy.</p><p>“Well, I’m not sure if it’s really a ‘deep, dark secret,’ but I did have a near-death experience at ten years old.”</p><p>Noah gaped at him. “Dude.”</p><p>“Buzzkill.” Ronan said it with a straight face, but also like it was funny.</p><p>“Hey,” Blue frowned, but she’d been avoiding looking at Gansey since he walked in. “Out of pocket.”</p><p>Gansey chuckled. “It was only offensive the first time he said it.”</p><p>Adam looked away from the eggs to glance over his shoulder. “I don’t get it.”</p><p>“Ah. Well. I’m -- terribly allergic to bees. I stepped in a nest when I was ten, and…” Gansey was putting forks and spoons on five differently-patterned plates. That was the thing about the farmhouse, Noah noticed: nothing matched. Not the sofas, not the dining ware, not the chairs or picture frames. There were no two objects of the same kind. “And you can imagine the rest, I’m sure. Jane, are the cups in--” </p><p>He gestured to the cabinet behind her head, and after a second of scooting, Blue opened it up and began to pass him cup after cup. Still no eye contact.</p><p>It was quiet for a moment.</p><p>Noah wondered if he was more similar to Gansey than their contrasting appearances and interests initially let on.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Adam said, the first to acknowledge Gansey’s sharing. Noah couldn’t see his expression. </p><p>“No need. It--”</p><p>“--is what it is,” Ronan and Blue said at the same time. In another act of unison, they immediately started glaring at each other. Gansey nodded.</p><p>Noah sucked in a breath.</p><p>He didn’t talk about this with anyone.</p><p>“I had one, too. A, uh, near-death experience.” It was quieter than he wanted it to be, and with everyone’s eyes on him, Noah suddenly missed the way the background of the world welcomed him. “I was seventeen, so -- like, four years ago?”</p><p>Nobody spoke. They had questions, they just didn’t ask them.</p><p>“I had a friend going through a tough time,” Noah elaborated. The face of his ‘friend’ flashed through his head, making his shoulders seize for just a moment. Blue looked like she was going to reach out, only to realize that she was too far. “We hung out. Skateboarded. There was an--” (he touched the side of his head, fingers behind his temple and thumb to his cheek) “--accident. And... That’s all.”</p><p>It wasn’t all, but it was all they needed. Only the quiet sizzle of Adam’s pan filled the empty air between them.</p><p>“Thank you,” Blue murmured. “Both of you. For sharing.”</p><p>Noah nodded, so did Gansey. Then--</p><p>“Well, this fucking sucks,” Ronan said. “You guys fucking suck.”</p><p>She huffed. “Your <em> attitude </em> fucking sucks.”</p><p>Blue didn’t swear too much, but whenever she did, it surprised him. It looked like it surprised everybody but Adam.</p><p>Ronan flashed his teeth. “Thank you.”</p><p>“I am not complimenting you,” she pointed at him, “I am never complimenting you.”</p><p>“I do not want you to. I will never want you to.” </p><p>And bickering went on from there, effectively dissolving the tension and heaviness of their conversation. Noah shrugged at Gansey, who looked sympathetic but relieved. Gansey looked at Adam, who was turning off the stove and bringing plates of food to the island. The overlapping voices of Blue and Ronan only stopped when a cell phone rang. At first, Noah thought it would be Gansey’s, but--</p><p>Blue stopped threatening Ronan with a fork to slide her phone under her hair and against her ear. Everyone was dutifully silent.</p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>She creased her brow. </p><p>“Are you--”</p><p>She tightened her fist around her fork. She was quiet for a long time.</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Noah couldn’t hear what was being said on the other end of the line, but based on her crumpled expression, it wasn’t good. He wanted to reach out, and he could tell that Adam and Gansey wanted to do the same -- Hell, even Ronan looked a sliver concerned.</p><p>Blue’s exhale was a ragged, broken thing. Her voice was a ghost of what it usually was. For the first time ever, Blue Sargent looked <em> resigned. </em>And it was marginally terrifying. How could someone like her ever look <em> resigned? </em>Noah’s silent, panicked horror was mirrored by Gansey’s pensive expression.</p><p>“Give me twenty minutes.” She licked her lips. “No, I’m--because I’m in Henrietta right now.” Blue scoffed and her tone got all sharp, like she was channeling her inner-Ronan. “I don’t know. A <em> coincidence, </em>I guess.”</p><p>That got Gansey’s attention -- as if she didn’t already have it.</p><p>She rubbed her eyes.</p><p>“Okay,” she said. “Bye,” she said. “I know,” she said.</p><p>And then Blue pushed herself off of the counter and asked Gansey if he could drop her off into town. When he stammered out a ‘yes, of course, absolutely,’ she breezed into the living room without another word.</p><hr/><p>It was a hollow feeling, but she clung to her senses -- she clung to it the way drops of water clung to lone threads of spider silk. It was desperate. It was fragile. It was all she could do.</p><p>One wrong little twitch, and the water would fall.</p><p>The Pig was deafeningly silent, save for its chugging engine, and that was exactly the way she wanted -- needed -- things to be. Gansey only asked two questions when she directed him into the Nino’s parking lot.</p><p>“Jane?”</p><p>She unbuckled her seatbelt and thanked him for the ride.</p><p>“I can drop you off at your home.”</p><p>Blue didn’t want to talk. She was already half out of the Camaro, with her bag over her shoulder. “I don’t need you to.”</p><p>“You don’t need anything from me, yes. I’m well aware of that fact,” he said, pushing up his glasses. “But I’d <em> like </em> to drive you there. Would you let me?”</p><p>Blue looked over at Nino’s. She wrapped her arms around herself and remembered how nice it was to fall asleep hugging Adam. She also remembered how nice it was to greet Noah with a hug when he woke up. She considered trying to squash her desire for independence, because letting people be with her -- it felt <em> good.  </em></p><p>“Please, Jane.” He pursed his lips. “Blue.”</p><p>She ducked back into the Pig.</p><hr/><p>Ronan didn’t know what the fuck was up with Blue, but he could tell that Adam was bugging about it. They ate their breakfast in silence after she and Gansey left, then Noah took on the dishes because Adam cooked. Ronan noticed the way Adam looked at his empty hands when Noah swept the plates away from him.</p><p>Then Adam looked up at him, too.</p><p>“What do you need to get done?”</p><p>Ronan raised a lone and deliberate eyebrow. “The fuck are you talking about?”</p><p>“You clearly haven’t been here in -- well, none of us know how long. Except for Gansey, probably,” Adam pointed out. He sounded tense. Ronan kept his bored expression as he stared at him, since his observation wasn’t exactly groundbreaking. “You have things to work on. Where are you starting?”</p><p>(But it did make him wonder what else Adam noticed about him.)</p><p>Ronan drew his tongue over his teeth, swiping it beneath his upper lip in thought. He didn’t want to take Adam and Noah into the attic, or into his parents’ old room, or his old room. He couldn’t. He wasn’t ready. Even allowing him to <em>offer</em> to help was almost too much for Ronan.</p><p>“Garden shit. Still fixing to help?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. if i had vision through time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>gansey and blue arrive at 300 fox way; ronan and adam and noah get some things done.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>late on the upload but hey,, chapter 22 on august 22nd! yeehaw</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It seemed as though they were all being tossed through an emotional wringer. Gansey would have found it exciting, the fatefulness of it all, if not for the overwhelming heartache aspect. He wasn’t privy to many details, but Jesus, he wanted to be.</p><p>Gansey wanted to know how Ronan was feeling about being at the Barns. Gansey wanted to know why that woman in the parking lot knew Adam and why Blue had been so defensive. Gansey wanted to about Noah’s NDE, Gansey wanted to know what was bringing Blue home, Gansey wanted--</p><p>Gansey just wanted to know <em> them. </em>He wanted to know them the way that people knew their favorite colors; he wanted to know them the way the world knew the sun would rise in the morning. He--</p><p>“Stop that.”</p><p>Blue’s voice cut through his thoughts. He stole a glance at her.</p><p>“Beg pardon?” </p><p>“You keep looking over. Like you’re checking on me,” she mumbled. “I want you to cut it out. I’m fine.”</p><p>She did not seem fine.</p><p>“Apologies,” Gansey said anyway. </p><p>Blue huffed. “Left up there.”</p><p>Gansey took a left up there.</p>
<hr/><p>Adam’s first thought was that ‘garden shit’ meant spraying pesticides on rosebeds and pruning topiaries. That was probably the kind of ‘garden shit’ they’d do at a Gansey family estate, though -- if they didn’t already have groundskeepers to do it for them. He should have known that Ronan’s ‘garden shit’ would be different. Humbler. </p><p>Ronan led them back to the field behind the farmhouse. The land was mostly an open pasture and Adam could easily imagine a herd of cattle grazing it, but a short ways away from the house, a few rows of raised garden beds were set up. The whole plot of them was overgrown with weeds and the wood was deeply weathered.</p><p>“What did you guys grow here?” Noah asked plainly. It seemed like a simple question, but Adam knew how deep it went: to answer, Ronan would be forced to remember. Adam had been refraining from asking questions for that reason.</p><p>(...Maybe other reasons too, but mostly because he didn’t want to overstep with Ronan.)</p><p>(Or -- maybe he did want to overstep with Ronan.)</p><p>(And maybe he was just afraid to overstep with Ronan.)</p><p>(Maybe he was afraid that there’d be no going back.)</p><p>(And maybe he was afraid that there’d be no going back because he was just afraid of losing control.)</p><p>(Adam didn’t admit to fear the same way he didn’t admit to needing help. Because he didn’t need help. He wasn’t <em> afraid. </em> He wasn’t a <em> coward. </em>He--)</p><p>“Whatever we wanted for the house,” Ronan actually responded, drawing Adam out of his thoughts. He jerked his head toward the horizon. “Crop fields are over there. These were personal boxes.”</p><p>It was an interesting concept: Ronan’s family growing up on a farm. Or spending part time there. Or something else. Whatever the farm was to him, since Adam still only had his guesses. Regardless -- Ronan on a farm. The young Ronan from the photos and his two siblings on a farm. That Ronan gardening, that Ronan taking care of chickens or something, that Ronan--</p><p>But that Ronan was still technically this Ronan, wasn’t he? Adam wondered just how many miles of barbed wire were coiled around him. Adam wondered if his hands could manage to unwrap them.</p><p>“They’ve got names painted on ‘em. That’s neat,” Noah grinned. With the edge of a spade he picked up, he scuffed some dirt off of the ledge of one of the boxes, then another. “‘Matthew.’ And this one is ‘Declan.’” Noah paused. “Hey, Ronan, are they your…”</p><p>“--Parrish,” Ronan clipped. He unceremoniously pitched a dusty, burr-covered set of gardening gloves at Adam. “Since your hands are fucked up as is.”</p><p>It made Adam blink. Sure, he called his hands ‘fucked up,’ but there was thought behind the gesture -- it meant that Ronan had paid attention to his hands, which were veritably ‘fucked up’: chapped by work and the cold. That detail tipped the scales in favor of Circle B Ronan.</p><p>“And shake them out first,” he instructed. Ronan was already kneeling by a box and reaching for weeds with his bare hands. “Got ‘em off the ground. Probably have spiders inside. I didn’t check.”</p><p>Then the scales tipped towards Circle A Ronan, and for the second time that weekend, Adam didn’t entirely mind. He shook out the gloves, put them on, then started ripping long-dead plants out of a box marked ‘AURORA’ in sun-bleached, swooping letters.</p><p>(Matthew, Declan, Aurora. Ronan.)</p>
<hr/><p>Gansey pulled onto Fox Way and stopped at the building marked ‘300,’ just as Blue told him to do. It was a lovely home, he felt, with its faded powder blue exterior and trees on either side of it and flowers lining the path to the door. The more he looked, the more he noticed: in front of the house, there was an old signpost that said ‘<em>300 FOX WAY PSYCHIC SERVICES</em>.’ And, above the porch, there was a longer sign suspended along the edge of the roof that boasted the words ‘<em>TAROT • PALM • HEALING</em>.’ </p><p>His heart hummed a sweet tune. <em> The fatefulness of it all. </em> No wonder Adam had tarot cards, no wonder coincidences weren’t lost on Blue. No wonder, no wonder. </p><p>Plain and simple, Gansey was intrigued by her -- and with every new detail, he only grew more and more invested in knowing her. He only wished that the circumstances were different and that he was learning of her family’s trade during… Better times. Though he also wondered if it could have been worse.</p><p>In the passenger seat, Blue was staring down at her lap and beginning to chip at her nail polish.</p><p>“If I go in there, it becomes real.”</p><p>He wanted to hold out his hand for her to take, maybe more so for him than for her. He wanted to comfort her the way she had been there for him.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he murmured, because it was all he could say. He didn’t know what ‘it’ would be becoming real. Gansey swallowed thickly when he assumed the worst. “Do you nee--would you like me to accompany you inside?” He pursed his lips, then corrected himself a second time. “May I accompany you inside?”</p>
<hr/><p>Dead tomato plants, dead sunflowers, dead -- dead -- dead. So many of the things he once cared for.</p><p>While the inside of the farmhouse had been thoroughly cleaned, the field and the garden and the barns were left to time and the elements. Ronan was glad for it. He wanted to paint the raised planters, he wanted to re-soil them, he wanted to restore the garden to what it used to be. He wanted to see his mom’s sunhat in the corner of his eye, and Matthew spraying Declan with the hose, and--</p><p>Ronan reached into a box, brow drawn and eyes on a sprout of weeds. Before he could <em> yank</em>, though, something flopped against his shoulder. It fell to the ground, then so did his eyes.</p><p>The left gardening glove.</p><p>Adam was stooped over one of the planters. </p><p>“Your right knuckles are still fucked up,” he said, not making eye contact. “Just use your left hand.”</p><p>Ronan bared his teeth. “You can’t tell me shit.”</p><p>He was right, though -- they were still wrapped in the same gauze from the prior afternoon, but the ache in them was more familiar than painful. He thought of how much care Adam had put into handling the wounds and bandaging them; he thought of the bathrooms, of how close Adam was to him both times, of how easy it was to imagine curling two fingers through the belt loops at either of his sides and drawing him in, of--</p><p>Ronan had too many of those dreams. The only way they even started to bleed into reality was through untimely fantasizing.</p><p>“Actually, I can tell you whatever I want,” Adam said. “I just can’t make you listen.”</p><p>He could, though. He made <em> swearing </em> sound elegant.</p><p>Ronan put on the glove and kept weeding with his left hand.</p>
<hr/><p>The front door was slightly ajar. It may as well should have been locked, with how much it resisted her hand when she tried to push it open.</p><p>At that moment, right on the porch, Blue didn’t want to go inside. She knew that being home would feel surreal on its own, so she knew that not being greeted by every woman of Fox Way would be even more strange. Some damn homecoming. Her brain was gearing up to be punked -- a pointless hoping. <em> Surprise, </em>they would say, <em> we just wanted you to come home and visit. Tell us about college and let us cook you something to eat. </em>And then she’d stomp her foot and be angry with them for not being honest and for scaring her, but Persephone would put a plate with a slice of pie in her hands and it would temporarily placate her because yeah, Blue did miss Persephone’s pies.</p><p>Blue wished that would happen instead of whatever she was going to walk into. </p><p>But she ordered her body to move. She pushed on the door and held it open enough for Gansey to follow her into the landing room, which doubled as the shop part of the house. Dark shelves lined the wall, stocked with jars of her mom’s healing tea blends and candles; incense burned on a counter; crystals sat in bowls. Her throat was dry as she fought to find her voice. </p><p>“Calla,” she called first. “Persephone,” she called second.</p><p>Her shock began to dissolve around the edges. Anger crawled into her chest to take its place.</p>
<hr/><p>Mass started thirteen minutes ago. Ronan wasn’t there. Adam would have done just fine as a figure to worship for the next forty five minutes, but Ronan was busy and so was he.</p>
<hr/><p>Noah wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. So far, they had cleared three of the twelve planters -- heaps and heaps of withered plants and weeds surrounded them. It helped that the autumn chill countered the sweats they worked up.</p><p>“I feel like Blue would be into this,” Noah mused aloud. Adam laughed a breathy laugh, just an amused exhale through his nose.</p><p>“She definitely would be.”</p><p>“You two kinda have a lot in common,” Noah continued, “Ronan.”</p><p>“No shit?” He responded, with a really impressive amount of derisive sarcasm. “What, like our heights?”</p><p>Noah snorted back. “I’m right. And I don’t think it’s a bad thing to be like Blue. Or to be like you, for that matter.”</p><p>Ronan’s smile was a knife with no preamble. “Or is it?”</p><p>“Either way, he’s definitely right,” Adam said. “You both have Docs. She thrifted hers, though.”</p><p>“Fuck off.”</p><p>“Also, edgy hairstyles,” Noah added, nodding somberly.</p><p>“Fuck you.”</p><p>“Hatred of police.” Adam ripped out a weed.</p><p>“Fuck Twelve.”</p><p>“Temperaments.” Noah shoved his spade into the soil and flipped out a tangle of roots.</p><p>“Fuck you, again.”</p><p>Noah and Adam shared a grin. It was one of the biggest smiles that Noah had seen him smile -- and it was warm and it was elastic and it was really sad that he didn’t smile more. Noah didn’t think it was because he was a grouchy and sulky person like Ronan, though. He just seemed to have a lot on his mind all the time.</p><p>When Noah looked at Ronan, Ronan was looking at Adam, except Adam was gardening again. Noah’s smile widened.</p><p><em> You both have spots for Adam, </em>he almost said.</p>
<hr/><p>Calla and Persephone and Aunt Jimi sat her down at the dining table. They sat Gansey down beside her, too, because there wasn’t really anywhere else to put him. Blue didn’t mind because she didn’t have the bandwidth to mind.</p><p>She stabbed her fork into her slice of pie. Her mom just -- <em> left. </em> It was almost impossible to wrap her head around it, because Maura was supposed to be the parent who <em> stayed. </em></p><p>(Not that it mattered that much, because it wasn’t like she knew her father. But still.)</p><p>“Blue,” Persephone said, in her tiny voice. “It’s not as though she is gone.” Blue knew what she meant by ‘gone,’ and the thought made her feel sick.</p><p>“Isn’t it, though?” She grumbled, knowing it wasn’t. Hoping it wasn’t. Another stab. Her fork scraped against porcelain and Gansey winced beside her. “You said it’s been nearly a week since she’s been here. How hard is it to find a phone and call home?”</p><p>“You would know,” Aunt Jimi clucked. “And <em> you </em> have a fancy cellular phone.”</p><p>“Jimi,” Calla snapped, ever as ruthless and thorny as a wild blackberry bush, with the lipstick to match.  “As far as we know, Maura’s just gallivanting.”</p><p>Jimi sighed. “Likely enjoying some time alone, now that her only bird has left the nest. I did something similar once Orla graduated.”</p><p>Blue barked a dry laugh. “Alone? So you’re telling me that she’s flying solo and <em> not </em>eloping in Vegas with her boyfriend, or something?”</p><p>Calla raised her eyebrows in a ‘watch it’ sort of way. “Dean hasn’t heard from her either, so, yes. That’s what we’re telling you. And we only told you because you deserve to know, not because we need you to worry. She’s fine. Nobody knew you would be in town. None of us expected you to visit.”</p><p>“I did.” Persephone cocked her head. “Blue dislikes ‘slimy’ fruit. That’s why I made pumpkin pie. Take some back for Adam, please.”</p><p>Calla’s gaze was scathing.</p><p>Blue worked some pie filling into a mush with her fork before taking an indignant bite. Then with her mouth full and her fork jabbing the air as she addressed Persephone, she said, “So if you knew I was coming, why don’t you know where my mom is going?”</p><p>“She’s not underground,” Persephone said mildly. Her lips curled into a light, impish smile -- a smile that said ‘I know something you don’t and I cannot say what.’ Blue was used to seeing that smile. She squinted and tried to make sense of her words.</p><p>“Is ‘underground’ a metaphor for ‘dead’?”</p><p>“Unless you want to manifest that reality for yourself, she isn’t dead,” Calla cut in sharply. It was a real warning and Blue knew it.</p><p>“It means that, in this time, she is not underground.” Persephone offered Gansey a top-off of his pomegranate juice.</p><p>Right. Gansey. His voice was soft, as if he didn’t actually mean to speak. “<em>In </em> this time? Not <em> at </em>this time?”</p><p>Persephone nodded once. “There are many things that are easier in this time. For both of you.” She looked between them in a way that made Blue’s lips feel chapped and her tongue taste sour. “For all of you.”</p><p>“All of who? Me? And my mom?”</p><p>“Your friends. But yes, Maura, too,” Persephone said. Her nimbus of hair bobbled as she stood from the table. “You left your helmet here. I will get it. You should really be bringing it with you when you’re skating, Blue -- accidents happen.”</p><p>Blue wrinkled her nose at the thinly-veiled promise. In contrast, when she slid her gaze over to Gansey, she found his expression full of awe.</p>
<hr/><p>Adam moved on to another planter. The paint on it was faded, just like all the others, but he could read the ledge without any problems:</p><p>
  <em> NIALL </em>
</p><p>Matthew. Declan. Aurora. Niall.</p><p>And Ronan. </p><p>Adam kept the first four names tucked away under the fifth one, like a labeled binder with marked-up tabs. He didn’t know a thing about <em> those </em> people, but they were four more things he knew about <em> Ronan. </em> A bizarre thing happened then.</p><p>He knew things about Ronan. Or at least -- he suspected things about Ronan. And he... He wanted Ronan to know things about him too? Did Adam want to be known? </p><p><em> Could </em>he be known?</p><p>It made him pause and brace either of his hands on the inside lip of the planter he was weeding. His cheeks felt warm, either from the realization or the work or both.</p><p>“Fuck’s sake, Parrish,” Ronan spoke like wildfire: with suddenness that was incendiary to everything around it. “Get yourself some damn water. I’m not dragging you inside if you pass out.”</p><p>“I’m fine.” Adam promptly returned to his task, a familiar sense of shame crawling up the back of his neck when he realized that he was caught taking a break. It was weird, though, because he wasn’t at work and he wasn’t being paid. And it was just Ronan and Noah around. He was too used to productivity and flat-rate pay, too used to killing his back by turning four hour jobs into three, all to free up sixty minutes. </p><p>“Whatever, jackass.”</p><p>“You’re both stubborn,” Noah sighed, sounding like a strange mix of Blue and Gansey. Or -- well, no. He was himself, he was Noah. “<em>I’ll </em> get you <em> both </em>water.”</p>
<hr/><p>After pie and pomegranate juice and Persephone’s portend, Blue stomped out of the kitchen. Gansey didn’t move from the table until Calla raised both of her eyebrows and gave him a very <em> Ronan </em>type of stare. He took it as his sign to thank the women at the table and then he hastily shuffled after Blue, out of the kitchen and up the staircase.</p><p>Being in 300 Fox Way was not unlike being at the Barns -- Gansey drank in the photos and the decor and the furniture with rapt curiosity. A part of his wanting was greatly satiated by--</p><p>“Wh--<em>hey--” </em></p><p>“Oh!”</p><p>Gansey rounded a corner, his eyes combing over the things on the walls instead of where he was going. He walked right into Blue -- or rather, Blue’s hands, which had been raised in a ‘stop’ sort of gesture. Gansey’s reaction had been to raise his hands, too… And so he held her elbows as her palms lay on his upper arms.</p><p>She was warm. Her eyes were lovely. He wanted to hug her. He wanted to raise a hand to the side of her face and tuck some of her hair behind her ear and brush his thumb over the apple of her cheek, the way he almost did in his bedroom a mere two nights ago. </p><p>“Terribly sorry,” Gansey said, softer than he meant to say it. He didn’t let go and step back until she did.</p><p>“It’s fine,” she mumbled. Blue pivoted on her heel and briskly walked deeper into the hallway. “I was coming to get you, anyway. I realized that I left you alone with <em> Calla.”</em></p><p>He managed a weak chuckle. Was he allowed to laugh? It was mostly just a placeholder for words that he didn’t have. As fascinating as Blue’s home was, he didn’t want to forget himself and his manners.</p><p>She led them into what he assumed was her room. Gansey did his best to not be distracted by the sheer <em> Blueness </em>of it all -- the canvas trees and leaves, the mirror with the edges covered in bottle caps, the dried flowers hanging, the--</p><p>Blue flopped onto her bed.</p><p>Right. Right, focus.</p><p>Gansey stood just inside the doorway with his hands in his pockets. His voice was gentle. (He tried to make sure that it wasn’t a condescending or patronizing sort of gentle.)</p><p>“How are you feeling?” </p><p>“Yucky.”</p><p>“Understandable.”</p><p>A moment of silence passed. Blue pushed herself to her elbows and half-glared at him.</p><p>“You can come in, you know,” she said, sounding mildly annoyed. Gansey did so, and he sat at the chair at her desk. Boxes and organizers of craft supplies were stacked up on it.</p><p>“I’m sorry I can’t do more for you.”</p><p>She shrugged. “I don’t need you to do anything for me. I’m -- sure she’s fine. It’s just annoying that she can’t call and tell them that.”</p><p>Gansey had deduced that Maura Sargent didn’t have a cell phone from the conversation at the table. And from the way Blue somewhat paused between ‘I’m’ and ‘sure,’ he deduced that she was, in fact, not sure. So he frowned. Just a bit.</p><p>“I think,” he murmured, “that you’re well within your rights to be more than annoyed<em>.” </em></p><p>“Am I, though?” Blue harrumphed. “She’s an adult. She can handle herself. I don’t need to be concerned.”</p><p>He lifted his thumb to his mouth. “That may be oversimplifying the situation.”</p><p>“She’s <em> fine, </em>Gansey.” Her tone was snappish. Unyielding. Like Calla’s stare, it didn’t bother him because his best friend was Ronan Lynch.</p><p>Gansey dared to get up and sit on the edge of her bed. His heart ached for her and his heart ached <em> for </em> her; it wasn’t enough for him to be immersed in <em> Blueness </em>by simply being in her room. He wanted to be where she was, the same way he wanted to be where Ronan was. Right beside them.</p><p>“But Jane,” he said, his expression crimped, “are <em> you</em>?”</p>
<hr/><p>Ronan was glad for the manual labor. It was easy -- it didn’t ask him to think. It didn’t ask him to feel. It didn’t ask him to think about how he felt.</p><p>For his back’s sake, he stood upright in the middle of working on his second planter and rolled his shoulders. With his right hand (the one he hadn’t been using to yank out weeds, unrelated to Adam’s suggestion), he lifted the bottom hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat away from his face.</p><p>He looked at Noah. He had scavenged an assortment of hand tools and was making good use of them, when he wasn’t distracted by a bug in the dirt or a monarch butterfly sighting. Ronan felt like he’d enjoy the summertime fireflies almost as much as Matthew did, so maybe they <em> would </em>come in the summer. If they even still talked to each other, that is -- Ronan wasn’t counting on anyone sticking around like Gansey did. Unless they ended up sticking around for Gansey, which they very well could. Ronan couldn’t think that far ahead, especially in terms of people who weren’t Gansey. And either way, he figured that Noah and Matthew would get along alright.</p><p>Then there was Adam. He had an impressive arm on him, apparently. It wasn’t a competition, but whenever Ronan had glanced over to see how he was doing, Adam’s progress made him move a little faster, so… Well. So it was kind of competitive. That meant that Ronan was wasting valuable time by taking a break and watching his friends--</p><p>Oh, Christ. Goddamn Christ.</p><p>Ronan set his frown, stooped back to the box, and kept pulling weeds. </p><p><em> Gansey’s </em>friends.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i love ‘em, man. i really so so so so super do. :’)</p><p>incredible thanks 2 everyone who has been continuing to keep up. i’m immensely honored to have people still interested, people who like my writing, people who have been taking the time to read and comment! i am so grateful, thank u guys for the support! also, special thanks 2 actuallyronanlynch and bitchboi and hollyanneg and kbe7 and crazyphalanges and jace_dean and crayolaparadise. :-)</p><p>1) adam wanting to be known wrecks me<br/>2) god i love noah<br/>3) god i love ronan<br/>4) god i love them all<br/>5) there’s no true supernatural/magic stuff but,,,300 fox way ladies are totally psychic and persephone can absolutely see the alternate timeline that is trc canon because fuck yeah that’s cool and cryptic as fuck right!!! &gt;:) also persephone is just That Good. my mind cannot be changed</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. in a thousand droplets, what can one voice say?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>blue and gansey talk; ronan and adam talk. adam apologizes. ronan opens up -- so does blue -- gansey gets put in the hot seat. the gang leaves the barns. a good amount of bronan :-)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>happy one month (and a day oops) of this story existing!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> But Jane -- are you? </em>
</p><p>The silence that followed Gansey was slightly charged. There was concern in his eyes. The concern irritated her. There was irritation in her scrunched up eyebrows. The irritation seemed to concern him further.</p><p>After another moment of staring Gansey down, Blue yielded, but only because Gansey had yielded a long time before her.</p><p>“I don’t know,” she said, because she didn’t. Anger trickled into her tone. “‘My mom ran away from home.’ It sounds so stupid. Do parents do that? I don’t <em> know. </em>And I don’t know how I’m supposed to just go back to school tonight, as if everything is fine and my mom’s not just -- just, somewhere.”</p><p>Gansey furrowed his brow. “I understand.” She didn’t know if he did, but it was fine.</p><p>“It feels wrong to just keep going about life.”</p><p>“Perhaps that’s what she’s doing,” he suggested quietly. “You were gone first, and so maybe your mother is -- just going about life.”</p><p>Blue considered this. Sure, maybe he was right -- but it was November now. She left for school shortly after her birthday in August, so if her mom was struggling with not having her at home, wouldn’t she have disappeared on a getaway earlier? Also, Maura knew exactly where she’d be going to school, so Blue didn’t know what to think about her being straight up missing, even though neither Calla nor Jimi nor Persephone ever used the word ‘missing.’ That’s what someone became after a week of no contact: missing.</p><p>Blue hated that she wondered if they should call the <em> police</em>, but even more frustrating was how there was no sort of reasonable explanation for any of it. And even more troubling was that, despite it all, Blue still had class the next morning. </p><p>The world just kept spinning. It wasn’t cruel, it was just a fact.</p><p>While she stewed in her thoughts, Gansey reached out to touch her knee with only a few fingers. An unwarranted tingle sparkled through that place and up her spine, though she didn’t look up from her lap.</p>
<hr/><p>Ronan held each breath of the Henrietta air in his chest like every atom was goddamn holy. He sucked it in with greed, gulped it down deep, exhaled it real slow. The Barns, despite all of the pain that lurked in the shadows and behind all of the smiles on the wall, were home. And he wanted to stay. </p><p>Good <em> God, </em>he wanted to stay. </p><p>But staying meant risking everything. And staying meant abandoning Gansey. And so staying just wasn’t an option.</p>
<hr/><p>“Ronan is definitively not okay,” Gansey said, filling the silence that she left gaping. It made her wrinkle her nose. She considered swatting his hand away from her, because Ronan wasn’t exactly the first person on her mind. Sue her.</p><p>“How is that supposed to make me feel better?”</p><p>”It seems as though Noah is carrying quite a bit, too.”</p><p>God. What? God, <em> what? </em>She looked at him with incredulously raised eyebrows, hoping he had a point.</p><p>“And to be truthful, I’ve suspected that Adam is not okay, either.”</p><p>“Alright, nope. Stop. Whatever you think you’re doing, it isn’t helping,” Blue snapped, jerking her knee away from his hand and hugging her legs close. What did <em>he</em> know about Adam? She already knew that she was lucky to have the family that she did. “I get it. Other people have bigger problems. But I’m allowed to be upset over things that matter to <em>me</em>, and you can’t guilt me into shutting that down. I don’t know where my mom is, I’m concerned, and you are <em>not </em>taking that away from me.”</p><p>“That isn’t what I--” Gansey started, looking alarmed. Then he took a breath and returned his hand to his lap. “You are, Jane. You absolutely are. I was building up to say that everybody seems to be going through something difficult, whether it’s current or lingering.” He paused. “And I… I think we could all be good for one another, if we only just <em> let </em> each other be there.”</p><p>He looked up at her again, earnest and hopeful and almost pleading. Ordinary Boy Gansey, not Future CEO or Politician Gansey, was entreating her to let him in. To let them all in.</p><p>Could she?</p>
<hr/><p>It was overcast when they woke up, but as the morning turned into the afternoon, the weather got progressively gloomier. The first day of autumn was two weeks earlier, but with the second day of November, the day after Ronan’s birthday, the temperature was beginning to act accordingly.</p><p>A glance skyward suggested rain. </p><p>When Noah went inside, Adam kept working. He grabbed as close to the base of a weed as he could, twisted, and pulled. Again and again and again. Matthew, Declan, Aurora, Niall. Again and again and again. The names kept bouncing off the inside of his skull, and though the faces from the pictures in the farmhouse were not faces that he memorized, he could only imagine that they belonged to those people. Aurora was the obvious one, even though Blue would scorn his gender normative assumptiveness. Aurora, Aurora, Aurora. Aurora and Ronan.</p><p>He figured that Gansey knew who they were. Adam found that he couldn't fight the part of him that wanted to know, too.</p><p>But he’d never pry. Adam didn’t pry.</p><p>After a moment, he stopped weeding. Words without order filled his lungs and took up so much space that there was barely any room for oxygen -- they were jumbled and scrambled and he didn’t know how to string them into a sentence capable of being pulled out of his mouth. The pressure in Adam’s chest kept building when he thought about his own parents. They never had what Ronan had in those happy family pictures, and Adam knew that they really <em> were </em> happy, because the crooked grins they showed were too candid to be staged--</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said. Quietly and suddenly. </p><p>A second that lasted a lifetime ticked by. Adam didn’t pry, but he did apologize.</p><p>“What the hell are you sorry for?” </p><p>Adam didn’t check to see if Ronan looked at him, but he sounded surprised. Adam was surprised with himself, too -- he told himself that he was done apologizing for things that weren’t his fault a long, long time ago. And now here he was, asking himself the same thing Ronan had. What was he sorry for?</p><p>He thought about it. He thought about what he wanted someone to say -- needed someone to say -- hoped someone would say to him when he lived at his parents’ house.</p><p>And then he knew. </p><p>With his forearm, he wiped some sweat away from his brow. Nobody told him this because nobody <em> really </em> knew what things were like, the same way he didn’t <em> really </em>know what Ronan was dealing with. But it was exactly what he needed to hear most.</p><p>“I’m sorry that you were hurt,” Adam said, and he felt shockingly bold enough to look Ronan in the eye from across the planters. “Because whatever it was and whoever did it, you didn’t deserve it.”</p>
<hr/><p>“May I touch you?” Gansey asked, not entirely unlike the way she had asked him for permission the night before. It was a little timid and Gansey shrunk a bit under her questioning gaze, but Blue eventually nodded. He scooted closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulder in half of an embrace.</p><p>To his surprise, Blue leaned into him too, and she fitted her head against the column of his neck.</p><p>And that’s all there was.</p>
<hr/><p>Adam’s eyes were piercing, but not a forceful and intrusive and violent kind of piercing. They were a gentle piercing, like how a beam of sunlight could cut through clouds. Like how a plastic bag tied too tightly to be undone only needed to be pierced once before you could rip it off, because after that initial puncture, everything threatened spilled out. </p><p>Ronan felt like he was threatening to spill out.</p><p>“You’re right, I didn’t,” he eventually replied, not looking away from piercing blue, blue, blue eyes. “But he probably did.”</p><p>And that’s all he said.</p>
<hr/><p>Who was <em>‘he,’ </em>what did <em>‘he’ </em>do, and <em>what </em>happened to him?</p><p>Another thing to keep him from sleeping at night.</p><p>It was just what Adam needed.</p>
<hr/><p>Blue and Gansey made it back to the farmhouse before sundown with two boxes of pizza from Nino’s -- not that there was much of a sunset. There was only really just a light drizzle and dark grey clouds that got even darker. Regardless, while Gansey set up in the living room, Ronan went to the kitchen. Blue followed him with the announcement that she’d get the drinks.</p><p>He was washing his hands in the sink, scraping dirt out from under his nails; the gauze once wrapped around his hand was unravelled and discarded on the counter. Blue started pulling out an assortment of sodas out of the fridge.</p><p>After a moment, she drew in a breath.</p><p>“My mom hasn’t been home in a week,” she confessed, and it felt like the air <em> whooshed </em>out of her lungs in a single swoop. “My family hasn’t heard from her, they don’t know where she went, and we have no real way of contacting her. Say ‘I'm sorry’ and I’ll shave your eyebrows in your sleep.” </p><p>Blue stared at the cans on the counter for a long moment before looking up at him. She didn’t know what she was expecting -- a laugh? A sneer? Something else vaguely shitheady? She didn’t even know why she told <em> Ronan </em>first, rather than Adam or Noah. She didn’t know if he’d care, she doubted that he even saw her as a--</p><p>“Five years,” Ronan said. He spoke plainly, <em> uncompetitively,</em> and without stopping the way he was digging under his nails. “Post-coma unresponsiveness. Car crash. Say ‘I’m sorry’ and I’ll curbstomp the shit outta you.”</p><p>Oh.</p><p>Blue’s heart sank. She fought the urge to look up at the woman in the photos.</p><p>
  <em> Oh. </em>
</p><p><em> (This, </em> she thought, <em> this was what Gansey meant.)</em></p><p>“Can I yee haw, at least?”</p><p>“Mm. Yeah.”</p><p>“Yee haw,” she said. </p><p>There was nothing else to say.</p><p>“Yee haw,” he echoed.</p><p>Blue dropped her gaze as Ronan finished washing his hands. As he walked past, he patted her shoulder, and it was almost comforting -- until she realized that he was only trying to dry his hands with her shirt. She fought him back with a flapping hand, he grinned like the jackass he was, she huffed something indignant as she gathered up the sodas. Ronan didn’t offer to help her carry them.</p><p>And actually, it was comforting. Blue kicked him in the shin as they headed back into the living room for good measure.</p><p>“Y’know, maggot,” Ronan continued, loudly and deliberately when the others could hear him, “Gansey’s mom is a Republican politician running for fuckin’ Congress. So if anything, <em>he </em> can apologize to <em> us</em>.”</p><p>The last bit about apologizing was definitely lost on Adam and Noah, but not on her. She would have acknowledged it more if not for--</p><p>“Richard Gansey the Third!” Blue demanded, ever vibrantly and unapologetically herself. ”Enlighten us with your political stances right the <em> damn </em> now.”</p>
<hr/><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> quick question </em>
</p><p>[ Henry ] </p><p>
  <em> To say that I am ‘all ears’ would be incorrect, given our mode of conversation, and yet it would still be understood. Such funny idioms, you all have </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Consider me all ears! </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> heh </em>
</p><p>
  <em> how’d you vote last election? </em>
</p><p>[ Henry ]</p><p>
  <em> What is her name again? The fiery one. The eclectic one. </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> …….how could you forget BLUE??? </em>
</p><p>[ Henry ]</p><p>
  <em> There, my Roman-friend-countryman, is your answer </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And a question for you: why? </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> oh! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ha good one </em>
</p><p>
  <em> well ronan told us who gansey’s mom is </em>
</p><p>
  <em> and blue is uh </em>
</p><p>
  <em> curious </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>The rain picked up. With the air mattress deflated and the place cleaned up and their stuff packed away and the pizza completely gone and Noah’s Uno card castle demolished by Ronan’s antagonism, they were more or less ready to head back to school at any given moment. </p><p>Or -- whenever Blue decided to stop grilling Gansey with what Adam saw as Good Human Being Pop Quiz Questions, at least.</p><p>(Not that he blamed her.)</p><p>“All Cops Are?”</p><p>“Jane, please. Remember who I live with.”</p><p><em> “All Cops Are?” </em>She pressed, eyes narrowed dangerously. Gansey sighed.</p><p>“You can guess my answer. Must I?”</p><p>“Yep,” Noah said and “pretty much,” Adam said and “fucking obviously,” Ronan said and “yes, or else!” Blue said.</p><p>“Bastards that need to be promptly defunded across the country, of course,” Gansey finished, firmly and resolutely. </p><p>Ronan scoffed. “Just say ‘bastards,’ man.”</p><p>“We’re not done,” she said, unimpressed, and though her grave seriousness could have been interpreted as humorous investment, Adam knew Blue better than that. “Black Lives?”</p><p>“Matter.”</p><p>“No Justice!”</p><p>“No Peace.”</p><p>“Pro what?”</p><p>“My God -- <em> choice. </em>Absolutely choice. Jesus.”</p><p>“Eat the?”</p><p>“Oh, ice fucking cold.” Ronan cackled. Blue shushed him.</p><p>“Actually, I think ‘cold’ would be making him say ‘save the bees,’” Noah whispered.</p><p>“Rich,” Gansey said, nodding once.</p><p>“Eat the Rich, Richard,” Blue confirmed, nodding back in a manner most menacing as she stared Gansey down. He looked both afraid and awestruck, uneasy and enamored. “Eat the damn Rich.”</p><p>It was entertaining. It probably would have been more engaging if he wasn’t thinking about school.</p><p>For most of the weekend, Adam managed not to stress about how much work he had to get done when they returned, but as their departure grew closer, he became more antsy about his problem sets and assigned readings. Adam realized that he should have just brought homework with him. </p><p>He looked out the window and peered at the clouds; he listened to the rain on the roof and tried to gauge how heavy it was. Would they get back alright? He wouldn’t know what to do if the others suggested that they wait out the bad weather. Adam couldn’t miss lecture, he couldn’t afford to just--</p><p>“Calm the fuck down.” Ronan’s tone was sharp, though the way he was leaning back in his seat and nursing a Coke was nonchalant. “You’re not gonna lose out on a boring ass TED Talk. That pint-sized monster threatened to key my goddamn car if she does.” He gestured at Blue, who smiled winningly, reassuringly at Adam then flipped off Ronan.</p><p>He wondered what they talked about in the kitchen, just them.</p><p>Ultimately, Adam didn’t know if he’d been an easy read or if he just wasn’t giving Ronan enough credit. He seemed like the type who didn’t care for anybody, but the way he had given Adam gardening gloves suggested that he was more attentive than most realized. Adam supposed that attentiveness was a necessary trait in a babysitter, for babies of both the human and raven variety.</p><p>He managed something of a smile. It didn’t quite meet his eyes, but it was enough. Adam talked around the lump in his throat.</p><p>“Is your hand okay?”</p><p>Ronan quirked a brow. “Are yours?”</p><p>He didn’t know if it was a genuine question or not, but he treated it like one. Adam looked down at them. They didn’t look ‘okay,’ but they always were, because if they weren’t, he had nothing. He was nothing. He could only become nothing.</p><p>“Of course,” Adam said, putting his palms down on his knees. Ronan looked skeptical.</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>“You’re weirdly unconvinced, even though I work for a living. What do you do, besides punch out people <em>and </em>mirrors?”</p><p>It came out way sharper than he meant for it to be.</p><p>...But it also made Ronan smile in a way that got Adam’s heart rate up.</p><p>Fuck.</p>
<hr/><p>Ronan did one more loop around the farmhouse before they left. He ran his fingertips over the boards of the walls, listened to the creak under his boots, stared long and hard into the faces of his immortalized family, stuck on paper and trapped behind glass and caged in his memory. The smell of grass seed and lemon cleaner stopped comforting him and began suffocating him, because now that he had to leave again, he didn’t want to let it go. </p><p>He looked up at the staircase from the last step.</p><p>Ronan felt so goddamn <em> grown. </em></p><p>Gansey came up beside him. His footfalls were as quiet and cautious as his voice. “I’ll take Blue and Noah, if Adam can drive with you.” </p><p>It wasn’t a question. Ronan grunted.</p><p>“Perhaps you can have Thanksgiving here. Perhaps Blue and Adam and Noah and Henry and I…”</p><p>Gansey set a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Ronan sucked his teeth.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Before they left, Ronan placed the credenza’s memorial photograph of Niall Lynch’s face down.</p>
<hr/><p>The dash from the front door of the farmhouse to the cars was a short one, but Blue didn’t feel like running through the rain. While Adam and Gansey and Noah made a break for the BMW and the Pig, she stayed with Ronan as he locked up the door. </p><p>Well, kind of.</p><p>She held her hands out from under the porch awning, palms up, allowing them to get wet with rain. After another moment, she stepped out from beneath it entirely.</p><p>And she stood in the rain, and she closed her eyes, and she breathed.</p><p>Her mother would come back. She would go back to school, she would hang out with her friends, and her mother would come back. Through a thin canopy of leaves, raindrops collected in her hair and began to seep through her sweater and she relished in every moment of it. It was a cold, grounding reminder that good feelings still existed.</p><p>The crunch of gravel behind her made her open her eyes to find Ronan at her side -- he was looking up, scanning the trees to the right of the house. He said nothing, so she said nothing.</p><p>Then he went towards it -- and he reached up to a height that she herself would need a good stool for -- and he closed his hand around a bright yellow apple -- apples that she didn’t notice growing before -- and he picked it -- and he tossed it to her.</p><p>Blue grinned and lunged forward to catch it. She cradled the thing in one of her hands and used the other to messily smear her wet bangs out of her eyes. Ronan kept taking more from the tree. He handed them to her once she joined him, and when she couldn’t carry any more, she began to place them in her bag until it was bulky with golden fruit. For some reason, it was such a thrilling thing: picking fruit in the rain with the last person she’d expect to ever pick fruit with in the rain.</p><p>“You better share, brat.” He curled his lip at her as they started for the cars -- a casual pace, with rain-soaked shoulders, and Blue’s bag heavy with apples. Ronan kept only two, and she imagined that one was for Adam. Blue snorted.</p><p>“If you’re fishing for a ‘thank you,’ you’re not gonna get one.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>They shared knowing looks -- thin smiles and glinting eyes -- before getting into their respective cars.</p>
<hr/><p>By the time he decided to join them in the rain, the two were already headed back.</p><p>Gansey smiled anyway. He knew that they all just <em>worked</em>. He knew they were good and he knew that there was something there, something about all of them.</p>
<hr/><p>Ronan would get to go home again soon and his family could be together again. He knew it.</p>
<hr/><p>Blue’s mom would come back home soon and her family could be together again. She knew it.</p>
<hr/><p>Noah knew he was right. Blue and Ronan were fantastically similar.</p>
<hr/><p>Adam didn’t know apples could be such a bright yellow.</p><p>It was inherently sweeter because Ronan had been the one to give it to him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>howdy folks! thank you so much for reading!! &lt;3 your comments have been so motivating! </p><p>1) adam ruins me<br/>2) ronan ruins me<br/>3) adam and ronan ruin me<br/>4) i made a list like this on the last chapter so i apologize for repeating it but sdjsjzj i ADORE them<br/>5) 🤠 bronan 🤠<br/>6) acab baybee!!!!!</p><p>school starts up for my this week and as things roll out, i may get a lil busy — or i may write a bunch more?!?! &gt;:0 we’ll see, but i do intend on trying my best to maintain my every-other-day updates. we are now back on track!!!</p><p>also... man. for some reason i cannot stop thinking about declan + orla + helen being friends? like??? oh my god. even if it were just like some kind of group chat and it’s like “oh my god, gansey” and “okay but ugh BLUE” and “gansey and blue? ladies, please. r o n a n.” and like. idk how to weave that in just yet but dang it i Want To</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. i know, i’ve got a chance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>a check-in with all the gangsey, bronan!!, noah and henry quick chat, Adam In Crisis, more bronan, gansey doing his goshdamn best</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hey gang! i’m real sorry for being slow to update — school started this week and i’ve been super busy. :’(</p><p>this one is a bit more fillery/set-uppy for the next part of the fic, but i hope it still satisfies! i just wanted to get something up for you guys as soon as i could. thanks so much for your support and readership. you’re all such the bests !!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Two weeks passed -- two weeks of jumping out of her bones whenever her phone rang, two weeks of late nights stressing about more than just schoolwork, two weeks of letting Gansey’s calls go to voicemail. They were two of the longest weeks of Blue Sargent’s life, because every time she took out her phone, it was in hopes that it would light up with a notification about a missed call from 300 Fox Way. </p><p>It never did.</p><p>Two weeks passed and Blue Sargent felt like she was running out of time. To do what, she didn’t know.</p><hr/><p>At the end of the week, Adam Parrish had a decision to make. He seemed to always have decisions to make, like about school or sleep or food or money -- but more often than he liked, they also had to do with his parents. Send or don’t send a letter, call or don’t call--</p><p>Go or don’t go to Henrietta for break.</p><p>In contrast to the Thanksgivings of the last two years, Adam’s mom actually invited him to spend the holiday at ‘home’ with his ‘family.’ Only his mother asked him to come back, though. Robert Parrish wasn’t mentioned once in the voicemail she left for him, which left Adam to assume that his presence wouldn’t be entirely welcome. </p><p>Not that it ever truly was.</p><p>At the end of the week, Adam Parrish had a decision to make: spend Thanksgiving alone or Thanksgiving <em>alone</em>.</p><hr/><p>It was like life was finally making sense again for Ronan Lynch. He had spent every weekend at the Barns since his birthday, experiencing how the late autumn cold crept into Henrietta the same way that he slipped back into his old life: slowly. </p><p>He accepted the approach of winter even though it limited the kind of work he could do. At the very least, the planters out back were repainted, ready to be decorated by Matthew during Thanksgiving break and sown come springtime. Ronan checked out every one of the barns, found out which ones needed the most construction, and organized the shit out of the tool shed. He even brought Chainsaw out with him, and she had a hell of time flying over the fields. Also, the front yard was (mostly) cleared of fallen and rotting fruit, while what was still good was (mostly) collected.</p><p>It was his first taste of many proper harvests to come.</p><p>Things weren’t perfect, but life was finally making sense again for Ronan Lynch.</p><hr/><p>Noah Czerny lived a pretty good life. He had an awesome family, an awesome car, he went to an awesome school--</p><p>And after meeting Blue, he was able to say that he had awesome friends. </p><p>Real friends that paid attention and listened; real friends that made him feel like he mattered. It had been a while since he’d seen everyone, since the approach of Thanksgiving also came with another round of midterms, and Noah found himself missing them terribly. He usually skated with Blue at least once a week, but recently… She’d been a little distant. Without Blue, Noah didn’t know how he felt about hanging out with Gansey and Adam and Ronan and Henry.</p><p>Noah Czerny lived a pretty good life. He tried not to wonder how long their friendships were going to last, because it seemed like the best things always ended the quickest.</p><hr/><p>Henry Cheng didn’t have much experience with painting with his true colors because he felt like they were ones that others would be blind to. It was easier to work with hues of incarnadine and pervenche and sang-de-boeuf, because even if such pigments were lost on the masses, they were impressive words. That was usually enough.</p><p>Simplicity was not his strong suit, but the silver lining was that the labyrinthine never failed to perplex -- and those who he perplexed stuck around a little longer. </p><p>It was generally much easier to be interesting than it was to be himself.</p><p>Though Henry Cheng didn’t have much experience with painting with his true colors, he hoped that he could learn to. Even more so, he hoped that the odd coterie of ol’ Junior and Mr. Grynch and the Azure Lieutenant and Sepia and Czerny would be the ones to teach him.</p><hr/><p>Despite what his bank account and general appearance said about him, Richard Gansey III was not happy with his life as it was. Money could buy comfort and security, and comfort and security were integral to happiness, but Gansey knew that there was much more than that to a life well-lived.</p><p>For the longest time, he knew he was missing the ‘more.’ And he felt guilty for it. What ‘more’ could he want when he had all the material comfort in the world? Why did he feel like he needed to look for ‘more’ in a universe that already gave him everything? Was he genuinely <em>that</em> entitled? Gansey hoped not, because there was little he despised more than having what he wanted automatically granted to him as a result of his pedigree. That’s why he felt so drawn to Ronan, and then Blue and Adam: their friendships needed to be earned.</p><p>Despite what his bank account and general appearance said about him, Richard Gansey III was not happy with his life as it once was, but either with or against all the odds, he found <em>them</em>. Then, in more than just zeroes and dollar signs, Gansey became wealthy.</p><hr/><p>People in crisis and dramatic hair changes got along as well as Ronan and corvids -- which was to say, extremely well. </p><p>In the Gansey-Lynch apartment, Blue sat on a kitchen barstool that she dragged into the bathroom. She faced the mirror and stared at herself, at her knitted eyebrows, at her twisted-up mouth, while Ronan, who was standing behind her, fiddled with his electric razor. He didn’t ask her if she was sure about letting him take it to her hair, which was something Blue appreciated -- not that she’d ever admit it, since Ronan wouldn’t want to hear it anyway. </p><p>Chainsaw was also present. She was busy pulling and ripping toilet paper, and Blue would have scorned it as a waste if Chainsaw wasn’t so cool. </p><p>“If you buzz a penis onto the back of my head,” Blue warned, “I will hurt you.”</p><p>Ronan rolled his eyes at her. “Fuck that, I get creative freedom. What did you expect when you asked <em>me</em> to help you?”</p><p>“Who else could I have asked to give me a wicked cool undercut?”</p><p>“Uh, Gansey, dumbfuck.”</p><p>She scoffed at him, naturally skeptical. “You’re telling me that <em>Gansey</em> knows how to use that thing? Are we talking about the same Gansey?”</p><p>“How many other nerds that go by ‘Gansey’ do you know?”</p><p>“Touché, Lynch.”</p><p>Blue tried to read Ronan’s expression in the mirror before them. Before she could get much of a sense of what he was thinking, though, he jerked her head forward with the heel of his palm.</p><p>“Hey! You prick!”</p><p>“Well, your head’s gotta be down,” he snapped, “unless you want this to look like shit. Or <em>shittier</em>, at least.</p><p>She grumbled something unkind under her breath and tucked her chin against her chest. Still, when the buzz of Ronan’s razor got closer, Blue folded -- she closed her eyes and let him finally start to shave the back of her head in silence. </p><p><em>Silence</em>. Silence, just like the two weeks of radio silence that she’d been getting from Fox Way. In the span of two weeks, Calla and Persephone hadn’t even called her to say that they didn’t hear from Maura, and unsurprisingly, the police did squat to help when she called. Blue also felt horribly removed from the situation because she was at school -- shouldn’t she have been at home? Shouldn’t she have been looking for her mom instead?</p><p>(The problem, of course, was that Blue didn’t know where to start.)</p><p>As tiring as the frustration and uncertainty was, it mostly made her restless. She was antsy and on edge; she was sleeping poorly and drinking too much coffee instead of having real meals. Blue knew that changing her hair wasn’t going to actually fix anything, because a haircut was just another fulfilled impulse, like a ripped-up shirt or a splatter of paint on some jeans. But creative expulsion of pent-up energy was her favorite flavor of catharsis. </p><p>And she needed a fuckton of catharsis.</p><hr/><p>Even though it happened two weeks ago, Adam hadn’t been able to stop thinking about his drive back to school with Ronan. In simpler terms, it seemed like he just couldn’t stop thinking about Ronan, period. Ronan’s old life at the farm. Ronan’s split knuckles. Ronan’s tattoos peeking out of his shirt, Ronan’s hands brushing his as he passed him fresh fruit, Ronan’s--</p><p>It only got concerning when he found himself thinking back to Ronan’s lips. </p><p>(That first night in his apartment: Adam’s thumb under Ronan’s nose, his knuckle just barely ghosting his cupid’s bow, Ronan closing his eyes--)</p><p>Damn it. <em>Damn it.</em></p><hr/><p>Moments passed -- the back of her head felt cooler -- her liberated hair tickled the nape of her neck and slipped down her back --</p><p>“Jack shit so far, I’m guessing.” </p><p>Blue snapped her eyes open in surprise. She wasn’t expecting Ronan’s acknowledgement. She almost wasn’t expecting him to remember what she was dealing with in the first place, and she immediately felt guilty for thinking so little of him. She should have known better, especially by now.</p><p>“Nothin’,” Blue quietly confirmed, dejected because of the topic but touched that Ronan bothered to bring it up.</p><p>“Brutal. D’ya want a mohawk instead?”</p><p>She cracked a smile.</p><p>“Ask me again in a week, shithead.” A pause. Okay. Fine. Okay, fine -- god, he was going to gag at her and she knew it. Blue originally planned on <em>not</em> being verbally grateful, but… She pursed her lips, she sighed through her nose, and she figured that the world was already turned on its head anyway. “Thanks, by the way. For doing this.”</p><p>His reaction was easy to anticipate.</p><p>“Don’t be gross,” Ronan clipped. “I’m only doing this so you can’t lord your shitty birthday present over my head.”</p><p>At that, her smile broadened with renewed smugness -- he had actually opened her birthday present to him? With everything that happened two weekends ago, she forgot about the keychain she made for Ronan: it had been a simple thing, fashioned out of some beads, a couple of feathers she found around her tree, and a leather cording she braided and studded (like his bracelets but snazzy).</p><p>“Oh, so you liked it?”</p><p>“No, it sucks ballsack and I hate it,” he sneered, and Blue knew that meant ‘thank you.’ She peeked up at him through her eyelashes and fringe, since her head was still down.</p><p>“You’re welcome.”</p><p>“You’re getting two penises on the back of your head for that.”</p><hr/><p>If he wasn’t in his car, Noah’s preferred method of transportation was his skateboard, and that day had been no exception. He was coasting through one of the main quads on campus, expertly weaving through the loose throngs of people when--</p><p>“Czerny!”</p><p>Noah turned his head towards the source of the call to find one Henry Cheng waving a sign with his face and “VOTE CHENG” at him. One backside powerslide later and he was screeching to a halt in front of Henry and his booth of clipboards and pens and buttons. Noah waved at SickSteve, who he recognized from the Litchfield party -- he was operating some portable stereo and blasting Madonna for the operation. </p><p>Noah raised an eyebrow at Henry. “You’re campaigning?”</p><p>“Associated Student Union President, naturally,” Henry beamed. “Mrs. Peacock and I had quite the discussion about the absence of diversity in power on Halloween. Seeing as the ballot was looking as white as the paper it would be printed on, I decided to toss my name into the hat. Button? Sticker, perhaps?” He held out one of each item. ‘CHENG FOR CHANGE,’ they read. </p><p>“Right on, man,” Noah grinned. He liked Henry -- Henry could carry a good conversation and was a fun person to text. Though they admittedly didn’t know too much about one another, and though their only interactions happened on Halloween, he’d quickly grown to think of Henry as as much of a friend to the others as he was, if not more so. Noah picked the sticker and smoothed it onto the underside of his board on the spot. “You’ve got my vote.”</p><hr/><p>Blue squinted at Ronan. </p><p>“Hey.”</p><p>“What.”</p><p>“What do you think of Adam?”</p><p>“What do <em>you</em> think of Gansey?”</p><p>They stared at each other, an unmovable object and an unstoppable force.</p><p>And their silences said everything.</p><hr/><p>Another day at the garage, another day with grease-stained hands and jeans. His shift at work had been mostly uneventful, but even as Adam organized tools and parts, his mind moved at a thousand thoughts per second. School. Work. School. Work. Home. Ronan. Repeat.</p><p>Home was a solid lose-lose situation.</p><p>If he didn’t go home for Thanksgiving, it’d be taken as a slight. His mother would be offended and hurt, she’d tell her husband, and they’d hold it over his head the next time he inevitably visited. Or they’d call and chew him out, talking about how they think that he thought he was too good for them. Or worse: his dad would drive down to Warren Grey and find out where he was, somehow, and he’d-- </p><p>And if he did go home, he’d have to organize a ride. He’d have to spend at least a night there, probably on the floor in a corner of the double wide, since they got rid of his bed well before he even left for college. His dad would make a scene about his mom inviting him over for dinner without ‘permission.’ He’d have to eat <em>their</em> food, that they paid for, and his father would guilt him for it in more ways than one.</p><p>Unless, of course...</p><p>His brain looped back around Ronan.</p><p>Adam wondered where he’d be spending Thanksgiving.</p><hr/><p>When Gansey returned to his apartment, he found Ronan lounging in the living room with a box of pizza on the coffee table and some video game or another on the TV. That much was not abnormal. What was abnormal was Blue Sargent walking out of their bathroom in a shirt several sizes too big for her, bare-legged, and her head wrapped in a towel.</p><p>Oh.</p><p>He blinked as his mind processed the situation.</p><p>Ronan, Blue, shower, shirt.</p><p>(Was it one of Ronan’s? He couldn’t tell, he didn’t want to stare, staring was rude and--)</p><p>“Jane,” he greeted, though his brain had yet to finish buffering, “I didn’t know you’d be over.” Gansey’s chest tightened with how long it had been since they properly talked to each other last. For the most part, their recent exchanges had been restricted to a few text messages -- Gansey sending a Wikipedia article or photo or something he thought she’d like, Blue apologizing for being slow to respond but appreciating his text anyway. </p><p>She saluted him and walked to the couch without pausing the way he had. Blue made herself comfortable on the other end of it, opposite to Ronan, as if she’d been living with them all her life. It was silly to feel jealous of how she and Ronan were hanging out, since they were their own people and could choose to spend time with whoever they pleased. Gansey quashed that feeling as soon as it flickered inside of him.</p><p>“Class go okay today?” She asked, adjusting the towel holding her hair out of her face.</p><p>“I--yes, thank you.” Gansey managed a nod before turning towards the coat rack to strip down his outerwear. He was successful in taking off his shoes and jacket and scarf, despite the heavy gears cranking in his head. Ronan, Blue, shower, shirt. Ronan. Blue. Shower. Shirt. Ronan, Blue; Ronan and Blue--</p><p>Oh. </p><p>Well, no.</p><p>Unless...</p><p>
  <em>Oh. </em>
</p><p>Oh, Jesus--</p><p>Finding out that Adam and Blue had been an item (past tense) was one thing; coming up with the notion that Ronan and Blue were possibly together (present tense) was another. He’d initially been rather certain that Ronan Lynch was not interested in Blue Sargent as a romantic prospect, given their exchange at their picnic. But that was some time ago, wasn’t it? And the two of them were rather similar, weren’t they? Gansey supposed that it made sense -- and, if it made Ronan happy--</p><p>Well.</p><p>That was all the reason Gansey needed to support them.</p><p>(Yes, even though his treacherous heart still clenched in his chest. Gansey resolved to just ignore it.)</p><p>He straightened his shoes and he hung up his keys, then ducked his head and shuffled towards his room. Gansey was determined to avoid eye contact with either of them to spare himself from the awkwardness. He almost succeeded, too -- but then, as if he were psychic straight out of 300 Fox Way, Ronan’s icy bluntness axed through his thoughts and stopped him in his path.</p><p>“Alright, get back here, you nasty ass motherfucker. The maggot and I did not hook up.”</p><p>Gansey whipped around and sputtered, both alarmed and fully indignant. How did he--why did he-- </p><p>
  <em>“Ronan--“</em>
</p><p>“Wait,” Blue interrupted, snapping upright to look at him, too. She exchanged glances with Ronan, and by the telltale warmth crawling over the back of his neck, Gansey knew he was red in the face. “Oh, gross. Oh, <em>yuck</em>. Oh, ugh, gah--Gansey, you thought that we--?”</p><p>Blue feigned sickness by clutching her stomach and heaving her shoulders, Ronan cackled something wicked, and Gansey -- Gansey huffed with indignation.</p><p>(In that same breath, however, relief filled his lungs.)</p><p>“Pardon me for trying my best to read the room. I thought that you two would want…” He waved his hand in the air. “I don’t know, space.”</p><p>“Space!” Blue repeated incredulously, speaking through laughter. “Gansey, no. Not from you.”</p><p>(It was nice to see her smile again.)</p><p>“In which case, never mind all that.” Gansey straightened himself in hopes of breezing past his blunder. He tipped his head at Ronan. “Did you get me the usual?”</p><p>“Avocado pizza in the kitchen, champ,” Ronan grinned, evidently still amused by his misinterpretation.</p><p>(It was nice to see his smile, too.)</p><hr/><p>Adam alarmed himself by thinking of staying with Ronan at the Barns rather than with Blue at 300 Fox Way. Their history and friendship considered, Blue should have been his go-to solution, so given the fact that he’d thought of Ronan instead…</p><p>He didn’t want it to mean anything. Or, at the very least, he was ‘supposed’ to not want it to mean anything. In reality?</p><p>He knew exactly what it meant.</p><p>Adam got his number from Gansey, along with a warning that it likely wouldn’t do him much good.</p><hr/><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em>It’s Adam Parrish.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What are your plans for next week?</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i’m so tired friends, i’m gonna reply to comments as soon as i can — please just know that i’ve read them and you guys make my heart melt. :’)</p><p>also, do check out @faeriestickers on tumblr for my trc art!</p><p>love u guys!!!!! thank you for all of your patience and support! as always, more content to come, so please do stay tuned!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. am i blind or just finding out that it’s always been like this?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>gangsey text convo and the day before/day of thanksgiving!! blue has strong feelings about the holiday, ronan and adam flirt in latin, gansey is still doing his best, ronan offers to teach adam stick, and home continues to be hard — for everybody</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i will reply to last chapter’s comments soon :’))) sorry for the delay!!! i adore u all thank u so so so much for all of your love</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> tuesday </strong>
</p><hr/><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> Alright! This should be everyone.  </em>
</p><p>[ Noah has renamed the conversation “the gang” ]</p><p>[ Henry has renamed the conversation “The Knights of the Round Table (GanseyisKingArthur)” ]</p><p>[ Noah has renamed the conversation “no henry we’re The Gang :(” ]</p><p>[ Henry has renamed the conversation “Henrysexuals” ]</p><p>[ Blue has renamed the conversation “henry no” ]</p><p>[ Henry has renamed the conversation “Henry, yes” ]</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em>absolutely not.</em>
</p><p>[ Blue has renamed the conversation “the gang” ]</p><p>[ Noah has renamed the conversation “the gangsey” ]</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> :) ba dum tss! :) </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em>pretty clever. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i’ll support it </em>
</p><p>[ Henry ]</p><p>
  <em> I also concede to this title </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> Good God </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Gangsey as in Gansey? </em>
</p><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em> No, Gangsey as in Ronan </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Obviously. </em>
</p><p>[ Noah has renamed the conversation “the ronang” ]</p><p>[ Noah has renamed the conversation “the rongang” ]</p><p>[ Noah has renamed the conversation “help please” ]</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> absolutely NOT x2 </em>
</p><p>[ Henry has renamed the conversation “Blue’s Crew” ]</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> you’re all awful </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> hey can you all fucking stop fucking blowing the fuck out of my fucking phone you fucks </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> you forgot to say fuck </em>
</p><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em> Text it again for an even million times, maybe. </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> ^^^ </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> Ronan! Perfect! We’re all here </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Onto business, Blue’s Crew </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> quit </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan has renamed the conversation “fuck you guys” ]</p><p>[ Henry ]</p><p>
  <em> Order in the King’s court, Arthur beseeches us </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> Thank you, Henry </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Now! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Once classes conclude, Noah and I will be returning to our families, Henry will remain in Litchfield, and Ronan will take Adam and Blue with him to Henrietta </em>
</p><p>
  <em> We’ll be apart for Wednesday and Thursday, but come Friday evening, we’ll all convene at the Barns for dinner. Then we’ll spend the weekend there and return to Warren on Monday </em>
</p><p>
  <em> How does that sound? </em>
</p><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em> Sounds about right. </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> Excelsior!  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As for figuring out dinner itself… Thoughts? </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> re: beverage detail, adam and ronan and i will get a gallon of sweet tea from nino’s </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> aw yeah!!! nice nice nice </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> alcohol </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> Oh, Ronan </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> dont fucking oh ronan me </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> lmfao </em>
</p><p>
  <em> oh, ronan. :) </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> oh ronan :) :) </em>
</p><p>[ Henry ]</p><p>
  <em> Ah, Lynch. </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> ok shitstains you all best start counting your goddamn days </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> adam </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> adam! </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> Adam? </em>
</p><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em> Okay. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Oh, Ronan. </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> et tu parrish </em>
</p><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em> Dulce periculum </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> hoc est bellum </em>
</p><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em> In omnia paratus. </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> googled allathat cause uh who speaks latin?? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “you too, parrish?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “danger is sweet” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “this is war” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “ready for anything” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ……so  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> yep </em>
</p><p>[ Henry ]</p><p>
  <em> Hm. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Conversing in the extinct parent of the romance languages </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Is this ‘flirting’? </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> oop </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> i know this game too </em>
</p><p>
  <em> per aspera ad astra and what not </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> Jane! You speak Latin as well? </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> hah no way </em>
</p><p>
  <em> adam taught me that one </em>
</p><hr/><p>Flirting? Gansey didn’t know if Ronan and Adam’s exchange counted as <em> flirting, </em>exactly. Unless there was something that Henry noticed that Gansey himself had missed? Because to him, it merely seemed like a good-humored trade of Latin expressions and--</p><p>...Oh, Christ. </p><p>Oh, <em> Christ, </em> they <em> were </em> flirting. </p><p>They were indubitably flirting, and just a week ago, he thought that Ronan and Blue had--</p><p>(Christ. Jesus. Good God. Gansey couldn’t believe himself.)</p><hr/><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> hey i never asked </em>
</p><p>
  <em> henry, do you celebrate thanksgiving at litchfield? </em>
</p><p>[ Henry ]</p><p>
  <em> Not exactly. I have been in the States for seven years and the American concept of the Harvest Festival is still a bit lost on me </em>
</p><p>
  <em> From what I have gathered, it seems to be a celebration of the exploitation of indigenous people? </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> YES. IT IS. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> it’s a bad holiday because it commemorates the genocide of native americans!!! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> it’s latent with cultural appropriation and its origins are mistaught to youth and it upholds an extremely whitewashed version of history </em>
</p><p>
  <em> screw thanksgiving! all my homies hate white america’s thanksgiving </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> well shit are you gonna fuckin cry about it or what </em>
</p><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em> Bad move, man. </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> oh hoH HOH i’ll make YOU cry about it is what the damn i’m gonna do </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> why are you saying ho ho ho? it’s fucking thanksgiving not goddamn christmas </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> Now now </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Can’t we focus on a different reason for celebration? The togetherness? Family and friends? </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> gansey: you’re rich and white </em>
</p><p>
  <em> don’t try and help </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ronan: ya boring. </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> Understood, Jane </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> well now he’s red white and whipped for blue </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> OOP </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> that is horrible slang and you know it. </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> wtf do you mean. that was fucking funny.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> red cause republicans  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> white cause skin  </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> hey before you finish </em>
</p><p>[ Blue has removed Ronan from the conversation. ]</p><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em> Aha. </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey has added Ronan to the conversation. ]</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> Alright now </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> no </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan has left the conversation. ]</p><p>[ Blue has added Ronan to the conversation. ]</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> ok stop </em>
</p><p>
  <em> if he thinks we’re fighting he’s gonna get upset </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> good i hope he cries </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> That was rude </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> it was supposed to be </em>
</p><p>[ Henry ]</p><p>
  <em> May I say, your relationships with Lynch are massively confounding. </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> you get used to it :) </em>
</p><hr/><p>Later that evening, Blue called him, and per usual, seeing her name and photo on his screen was an unparalleled little thrill. </p><p>The two of them put each other on speakerphone as they packed their bags for home, Gansey for DC and Blue for Henrietta. Blue talked to him about the controversies and nuances of Thanksgiving and every one of her words was charged with admirable righteousness -- a true sign of her usual self. He’d been rather worried about her as of late, given how she was so reticent about how she was feeling about her family.</p><p>(It was not terribly unlike someone else of a similar prickly demeanor that they both knew.)</p><p>At some point in the night, Gansey finally heard muffled Irish rock bleed through the walls, which meant that it was safe to ask Blue about their friends without Ronan hearing over his music. Gansey took Blue off of speaker, paused in his packing, and pressed his phone to his ear. “Jane?”</p><p>“Gansey.”</p><p>“How long have Ronan and Adam been <em> flirting?” </em></p><p>On the other end of the line, Blue’s laugh washed through him like the first light of day. It was a melodious sound that made his cheeks burn. </p><p>“Jane, please,” he insisted, and it was desperate but he was smiling because of her, “how foolish should I feel? How long have I been oblivious?”</p><p>She snickered.</p><p>“Good night, Gansey.”</p><hr/><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> so is there a chinese harvest festival? or a korean one? </em>
</p><p>[ Henry ]</p><p>
  <em> Yes, there are both! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I grew up with my mother, however, and so I am most familiar with the latter </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It is called Chuseok </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> that’s wicked! tell me about it???  </em>
</p><p>[ Henry ]</p><p>
  <em> You would actually like to know more? </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> uh, yeah </em>
</p><p>
  <em> of course i do, what do you mean? </em>
</p><hr/><p>Henry couldn’t remember the last time someone asked him about himself the way Noah had.</p><p>He smiled, then began to compose his response.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>wednesday</strong>
</p><hr/><p>When Ronan picked her up in the morning, he intended on clowning Blue for chopping it up with Gansey on the phone for so long -- but then she climbed into the back seat of the car instead of the passenger seat. Ronan rolled his eyes at the mess of buttons and pins stabbed through her duffel bag.</p><p>“So, maggot, you finally realized that you need to be this tall to ride shotgun?”</p><p>“Oh, shove off,” she scoffed. “We’re picking up Adam now, aren’t we? He can sit up front. Also, I want to kick the back of your seat like an annoying child in a movie theater during the drive.”</p><p>He bared his teeth in response to her impish grin. “Well, you’re always annoying.”</p><p>“Well, <em> you’re </em> the one having us over again.”</p><p>“Gansey’s idea.”</p><p>“An idea that you consented to.”</p><p>“Piss up a rope.”</p><p>“Wow, ‘piss up a rope.’ Points for originality, but very explicit. You plan on kissing Adam with that mouth?”</p><p>Heat flared in his chest -- cheeks -- the back of his neck.</p><p>“<em> Fuck </em>you.”</p><p>She grinned into his rearview mirror. “Checkmate, bastard.”</p><hr/><p>Adam dreamed of him almost every night now. </p><p>Never for too long, and never anything more than fingers ghosting cheeks and mouths tracing Latin phrases from another life. Over and over again: unguibus et rostro. Over and over again: Ronan Lynch’s forehead against his. Over and over again: the startling shift of a dream transforming into a nightmare, of a warmth in his chest transforming into the sting of one of his father’s blows.</p><p>As he watched Ronan and Blue pull up to the curb, Adam adjusted his bag over his shoulder and took a breath.</p><p>It was a long drive to Henrietta.</p><hr/><p>The trip from Warren Grey to his family’s residence in DC was both long and lonely. Gansey would have much rather been in the BMW with Ronan and Adam and Blue, listening to Ronan’s brutal mixtapes and Blue as she identified trees. </p><p>Admittedly, he was far more excited for their weekend together than he was for dinner with his family. It wasn’t that Gansey didn’t love and appreciate them, however; he knew that he was infinitely lucky to have his mother and father and his sister, and though he didn’t always have their affection or attention, they were still his family. That just didn’t fully counter how <em> difficult </em> it could be to meaningfully converse with them, because they wanted to know about business classes and consulting clubs and stocks and the Student Union election -- not about his new friends and his renewed interest in travel and Arthurian romances and his favorite antique store a few streets away from the university campus. </p><p>As he did with everything else in the royal, silken, gold-accented realm of the Ganseys, Richard Gansey III resolved to grin and bear it. </p><p>...But that was shallow of him and he knew it. He didn’t have emotional traumas nearly as awful as Ronan, he didn’t have to worry about the basic comforts of life, he didn’t have half the struggles that the majority of the world did -- and yet he was agonizing about having a car to drive and a dinner to eat with a family to love. His mother was not missing. His father was not murdered. His hands were not worn from mechanic work. </p><p>The royal, silken, gold-accented realm of the Ganseys was a kingdom of privilege, and it was one he would always belong to.</p><hr/><p>Once they made it to Henrietta, the fun of their drive together was gone. Being in the company of her friends didn’t change the fact that Maura Sargent was <em> in absentia, </em>as Ronan or Adam would probably say, just helped her forget -- but forgetting only made her feel worse.</p><p>When Ronan turned onto Fox Way, Adam turned down the music, then turned to face Blue. </p><p>“Are you going to be okay?”</p><p>It was a good question. Was she?</p><p>Knowing Persephone and Calla and Jimi, there was going to be a strange tension between acknowledging the elephant in the room and pretending like it didn’t exist. The worst part wasn’t that Orla would likely antagonize Blue in her Orla ways, which was Blue’s usual gripe during family gatherings -- it was that she didn’t know how she’d prefer things to go. Did she or did she not want to talk about her mom’s three week absence?</p><p>At that point, she couldn’t tell. Blue hadn’t confided in anyone about what was (wasn’t?) happening at her home. This was partially because there was nothing to actually talk about, partially because she was wise enough to know that there wasn’t anything anyone could say to make her feel better, and partially because trying to be <em> happy </em> while her mother was <em> missing </em>just felt plain wrong. She didn’t know if Maura was gone-gone or just wandering, if she was lost or if she’d gone somewhere specific, if she was planning on coming back or if she’d left for good and--</p><p>And Blue was tired. </p><p>But tired as she was, she needed to go home, because two Sargents missing from the dining table was worse than one.</p><p>In response to Adam’s question, Blue shrugged. “Per aspera ad astra, and all of that hooey.”</p><p>“Your pronunciation sucks ass,” Ronan jeered. Adam openly rolled his eyes and it helped Blue manage to crack a grin rather than insult Ronan back. Then, even though it was a risk with a third person in the car, it had to be asked:</p><p>“Are <em> you </em> going to be okay, Adam?”</p><p>He didn’t respond right away. Blue recognized his silence as one that meant that he had glassy, distant eyes, but Adam eventually turned back around to give her some ghost of a smile--</p><p>Only when he did, his eyes briefly, fleetingly, momentarily caught on Ronan.</p><p>It made Blue’s expression promptly turn smug, and it made her earlier kissing comment feel less off-base than how Ronan initially made it seem. It was a surprisingly soft thought, too: Adam and Ronan, Ronan and Adam, them flirting in Latin, the two of them tiptoeing around an interest in one another… Ever since the night at the peaks with Ronan and Noah, Blue had become vigilant in all things Ronan-and-Adam. Now Gansey was, too, and that very likely meant that it was only a matter of time before <em> something </em>happened.</p><p>As much as she hoped that it was a <em> good </em>something, she was forced to stop thinking about it when Ronan inevitably pulled up to her house. Not her home, but her house.</p><p>Home just wasn’t home without everyone home.</p><hr/><p>On the other hand, for Adam, home just wasn’t home.</p><p>Ever.</p><p>They dropped Blue off -- they waited and made sure she got inside -- they pulled away from the sidewalk, flipped a U, then started driving towards Singer Falls, which was in the direction opposite of the trailer park of double-wides that Adam was supposed to call home. Adam stared out of the passenger window and watched the backdrop to his childhood scroll by until Ronan’s voice, slow and dreamlike, drew him out of his memory.</p><p>(How many times had Adam imagined hearing Ronan while he was trying to get invaluable sleep?)</p><p>“Fixed the guest room up last weekend,” he said, omitting the ‘I’ in a way that made him sound more aloof. Ronan didn’t remove his eyes from the road, which made it easier for Adam to look at him. </p><p>It needed to be known that Adam Parrish wasn’t an <em> ungrateful </em> person. He had manners and he had tact; he was considerate and observant. He just wasn’t used to being in positions where he needed to express gratitude, because asking someone to do something for him was almost unheard of. ‘ <em> Thank’ </em> and <em> ‘you’ </em>were words in his vocabulary, used often and honestly when addressing customer service workers -- but other than that? </p><p>In this context, the phrase was foreign on his tongue.</p><p>“Thank you,” he said, tasting their absolute alieness. He had only asked if Ronan could spare a couch for the first night, not an entire bedroom. </p><p>Ronan glanced at him, and that was all the <em> ‘you’re welcome’ </em>he gave.</p><p>“You drive stick?”</p><p>
  <em> No. I’ve never owned a car. I only have my license because my old boss at Boyd’s Auto let me borrow a vehicle. </em>
</p><p>“I can fix a sticking transmission,” Adam responded. “Replace a cable. And a clutch, too.”</p><p>It was always easier to say what he could do instead of what he couldn’t.</p><p>“I’ll teach you,” Ronan said, sounding oddly annoyed for someone offering to do something that he wasn’t prompted to do. Adam raised an eyebrow at him. “What? You want me to play chauffeur forever? Fuck that shit.”</p><p>“It sounds like you’re saying that you’d let me drive your car.” That -- that felt big. That felt like <em> trust, </em>heavy on the heart and the shoulders. Was that what they had? Trust? When -- and <em> how </em>-- did that happen? Adam leaned forward to get a better look of Ronan’s expression: wicked and electrifying.</p><p>Adam’s heart, as if seized by jumper cables, jolted in his chest.</p><hr/><p>“I’m home,” Blue called. </p><p>Aunt Jimi promptly swooped into the landing room and wrapped her up in a hug. Persephone and Calla followed -- even Orla poked her head through a doorway to see her.</p><hr/><p>“I’m here,” Gansey announced.</p><p>That’s all there was.</p><hr/><p>On Thanksgiving morning, Ronan would bring Adam into Henrietta while Declan and Matthew were driving down from DC to the Barns. Everything was organized so that Ronan’s family would not fraternize with Ronan’s friends: Adam would be gone for the day by the time his brothers showed up, his brothers would be asleep when he picked Adam up, they’d leave in the afternoon, and the others would arrive shortly after. Minimal mingling would happen, because it was just better that way.</p><p>Ronan didn’t ask any questions when Adam told him that he didn’t want to spend the night at his family’s house and asked if he could crash on a couch. Despite the fact that part of him was despicably curious about why home was difficult for Adam Parrish, he also didn’t need to know.</p><p>(He just <em> wanted </em> to.)</p><p>Instead of going straight up to the Barns, Ronan drove them into some big empty parking lot in front of an abandoned factory-type building, or something. When he got out, he left the keys in the ignition, then walked around the hood of the car to evict Adam from the passenger seat. Adam didn’t need to be told to get behind the wheel and buckle in.</p><p>“If you fucking stall her, Parrish,” Ronan started, but then the threat withered in his throat and left him without any venom. Something about threatening to kick the shit out of him for fucking up didn’t feel right, so he just sneered instead. “<em> Cave canem.” </em></p><p>Adam looked like he was smirking. It made Ronan’s skin prickle with warmth. </p><p>“<em> Canis canem edit,” </em>he responded.</p><p>Ronan half-scowled, half-smirked. </p><p>“Just start the goddamn car, man.”</p><hr/><p>Rather than lock herself in her room after dinner, Blue camped out under the beech tree in the backyard. Said dinner had been an awkward prelude to what Thanksgiving evening was going to be: a meal of cautious glances and Blue staring at her plate and Orla happily dominating all of the airtime as she talked about what she was up to with her remote psychic hotline business.</p><p>As she laid in the grass and stared up at the stars through the barren branches of her beech tree, Blue considered calling Gansey -- she thought about his voice, about hearing it, about listening to him recite some facts from a textbook or regale her with an Arthurian legend or Breton lai. She figured, though, that he would be busy with his own family, so she settled for a text. A simple, unrevealing ‘hey.’</p><hr/><p>“Good,” Ronan said. “Do it again. Don’t ride the clutch, or else you’re replacing it.”</p><p>Adam noticed that the sentence lacked a swear.</p><p>He nodded and circled the lot another time, quicker than when he first started. Ronan seemed to sit with a little less tension after that one. He felt oddly proud of himself -- even though any approval that wasn’t academic didn’t mean much to Adam Parrish, Ronan Lynch’s praise still seemed to satisfy.</p><hr/><p>[ Gansey ] </p><p>
  <em> Hello, yourself </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> wow you replied fast </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i thought you’d be busy </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> And I, you </em>
</p><p>
  <em> How goes your Thankstaking Eve? </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> hm. </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> That bad? </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> family is family </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> Ah. Agreed. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Care to elaborate? </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> not really </em>
</p><p>
  <em> but i’ll see you in two days, so whatever </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> It’s closer to 44 hours than 48, really </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> are you counting?? </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> Good night, Jane :-) </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> pshaw </em>
</p><p>
  <em> gnight </em>
</p><hr/><p>They eventually made it back to the Barns and decided to kill time on the back porch. Adam was already sitting out on the steps, and when Ronan joined him, it was with a beer in one hand and a Coke in the other.</p><p>Ronan passed Adam the Coke.</p><p>Adam gave him another ‘thank you.’</p><p>Ronan cracked open his can and wiggled the tab off. </p><p>Adam noticed.</p><p>“Blue?” He asked.</p><p>Ronan snorted. “Maggot.”</p><p>“That’s thoughtful of you.”</p><p>“Saving trash for some weirdo is thoughtful?”</p><p>Adam smiled a funny smile and sipped at his soda. “Yes.”</p><p>“Hah. <em> Caveat emptor.” </em></p><p>Crickets -- literal ones, out in the field -- filled the air between them. Ronan leaned back on one of his hands, and in a moment of shocking and daring clarity--</p><p>Adam reached behind him to set his hand on top of it. </p><p>Ronan didn’t move away.</p><p>For the rest of the evening, they sat in silence.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>thursday</strong>
</p><hr/><p>When she woke up in the morning and went downstairs, an unreasonable part of Blue hoped that her mom would be flitting around the kitchen, squeezing past the other women as they took out ingredients in preparation for the cooking storm to come.</p><p>She wasn’t in the kitchen, of course.</p><p>...Instead, Maura was sitting at the dining table with Persephone and Calla and Jimi and Orla and Dean -- and a willowy man that Blue had never seen in her life.</p><p>No. </p><p>Wait. Maura was--</p><p>What? </p><p>No!</p><p>What--</p><p>“Language,” Persephone chided softly. </p><p>Blue’s phone hit the floor with a thud, right alongside her jaw. She ignored Persephone’s warning -- prediction -- preemptive reprimand -- or -- or whatever it was. She shook her head, she blinked hard and fast--</p><p>“Okay,” Blue demanded, forgetting about her phone as she stomped over to the table. She slammed her hands down, and at once, she felt all of Ronan’s savageness and Gansey’s authority and Adam’s umbrage and Noah’s curiosity and Henry’s drama flood her system. “What the <em> fuck </em>is this?”</p><p>Her mom -- present, accounted for, <em> alive -- </em> had a pleasant smile on her face. It was a very <em> Gansey </em>sort of expression.</p><p>“It’s nice to see you, too,” Maura said, as if Blue was simply coming home from college for the first time. “I brought you little pinecones, to make into earrings.” Then she nodded her head over to the tall, slinky man. “And this is your father. I also found him in the woods.”</p><hr/><p>Ronan insisted on driving him all the way to his father’s trailer, as opposed to just dropping him outside of the community. Adam knew it was a bad idea, but despite his protests, Ronan was just a hair more stubborn than he was.</p><p>Adam already felt the critical gaze of his father coming from the half-drawn blinds as the BMW rolled to a stop. </p><p>“Call if you gotta,” Ronan instructed, picking under his nail. “I’ll can exploit you as an excuse to get the fuck away from <em> my </em>family shitshow. Otherwise, I’ll be here at eleven.”</p><p>He almost wanted to tell Ronan to just keep driving.</p><p>He didn’t.</p><p>He <em> couldn’t.</em></p><p>Adam got out of the car.</p><hr/><p>Orla groaned and implored her to just sit down already. Blue ignored her cousin’s complaining to keep pacing the dining room floor.</p><p>“How could you just leave?” She ran one hand through her fringe, exasperated. “Without telling anyone? Your friends. Sister. Partner. Daughter. Am I the only one upset about this?”</p><p>“It could have been worse,” Persephone mused, softly and sagely. “It could have been longer. She could be down, down, down below.”</p><p>Blue furrowed her brow. She <em> knew </em>that already -- she knew that Maura could be dead instead of sitting at their table. Calla simply poured Dean Allen another drink, Persephone continued working on a pie lattice, and the man who was supposedly her father kept his too-familiar eyes on the glass of water in front of him.</p><p>She folded her arms, huffed, and turned towards Dean. “Your girlfriend ran off into some forest without a word to find her ex-lover, just to bring him over for this awful excuse of a holiday.”</p><p>Maura and Dean exchanged glances. Blue could tell that they were holding hands under the table.</p><p>“We’ve talked,” he said.</p><p>Oh, so <em> they’ve </em>talked.</p><p>“Fine.” Blue pushed her hair out of her face. “Then listen up. This is going to be rude--”</p><p>“Is it rude <em> and </em>necessary?” Calla asked. </p><p>Blue nodded. </p><p>Calla raised her glass in a ‘then proceed’ type of way.</p><p>Blue took a deep breath.</p><p>“I didn’t need a father to help raise me before, and that means I certainly don’t need one <em> now,” </em>Blue said. “Mom, I’m struggling to understand why it was so important for you to bring him here, because all things considered? There’s not much I have to say other than ‘I turned out pretty good, not that you’d know and not that you helped. Okay. Bye.’ And that’s basically everything.”</p><p>As Blue dropped into a seat, Maura looked like she was about to stand up. “<em>Blue.” </em></p><p>“I’m just being honest.”</p><p>“I think you’re just being rude.”</p><p>“Well, I did tell you that I was going to be rude.”</p><p>Maura sighed.</p><p>“Yes, you did.”</p><hr/><p>Because Matthew was around, Ronan and Declan had yet to grab for each other’s throats or argue about the state of the Barns. The elder brothers Lynch weren’t practiced in civility unless their youngest was around to motivate them, so with Matthew mashing boiled potatoes and Declan reading the back of a box of cornbread, the kitchen -- their relationships -- almost felt <em> normal.</em></p><p>The normalcy was shattered when Ronan checked his phone.</p><p>It was the first time, probably ever, that he took it out of his pocket within the same second that it buzzed. He didn’t even do that when he was certain that it was Gansey.</p><hr/><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em> Don’t worry about picking me up tonight, have a good time with your family. See you tomorrow. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Thanks again </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>friday</strong>
</p><hr/><p>Thanksgiving wasn’t very different from the other meals that the Ganseys had together. It came and then it went, like every single other time Gansey visited home. They talked about politicians they knew, about charity funds and Helen’s business and Mrs. Gansey’s campaigns, about the reliability of the Pig -- and really, not much else.</p><p>Once he was finally ready to leave for the Barns, Gansey was likely a bit too eager to shake his father’s hand and kiss his mother goodbye. They had offered to have extra servings of lobster and prepared for his dinner with his ‘chums.’ Gansey declined; he did not want to show up with lobster, of all things, when he was half-sure that their meal would include chicken tenders from one place or another.</p><p>Thankfully, his family’s casual expressions of wealth stopped mattering once he was on the road, because once Gansey was on the road, all he needed to think about was Ronan and Adam and Blue and Noah and Henry. They were spending another weekend together and it was going to be grand and he’d get to talk, properly <em> talk, </em>with Blue. She and Ronan and Noah would likely mix drinks, Gansey and Adam and Henry would chuckle about them, Ronan and Blue would bicker in that strange-but-affectionate way of theirs, and--</p><p>Gansey had grown rather attached to them. It was as simple as that.</p><p>His excitement to see them contributed to why he was slightly dismayed to find that he was the last to arrive. How long had everybody been around, and how much had he missed? Noah and Henry’s cars were both already parked in front of the farmhouse alongside Ronan’s BMW, and after some easy steering, the Pig joined the line of vehicles. Gansey shook off the strange feeling in his chest before stepping up to the door with his luggage in hand.</p><p>Ronan opened the door before he even knocked.</p><p>“Fucking finally,” he hissed. “Someone just dropped Blue off. She’s out back and she won’t say shit. Now move, I gotta pick up Adam.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hello gang!! thanks so much for everyone’s patience and support :’) i really appreciate each and every single one of you guys for reading and commenting!</p><p>there will be a lot more insight into the feelings everyone has about their family stuff in chapters to come — i want to have conversations and interactions that further relationships through dialogue rather than strictly solo character scenes!!! basically, there are gaps, and i will be filling them as i proceed.</p><p>sorry for slowness + anything that reads as scattered; i’ve been incredibly busy and i’ve fallen out of writing regularly :( i really just needed to Post, bc if i did not, i would have been stuck editing this chapter for a week. regardless, i hope it was fun to read anyway!! &lt;3 love you guys so much!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. i’ve wasted time remembering, trying to see if these memories are really any good</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>robert parrish, helen gansey, artemus, declan lynch, mrs. czerny. home is hard -- family is rough. they come hand in hand.</p><p>blue grapples with the difficulty of knowing (but not knowing) what her life could be like; adam parrish grapples with his father. gansey and ronan support them, respectively.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>wednesday evening</strong>
</p><hr/><p>Robert Parrish commented on Ronan’s shiny ‘beemer’ as soon as Adam stepped into the double-wide. He bad to bite his tongue to refrain from letting Ronan-branded snark fall from his lips -- ‘beemer’ was the term for BMW motorcycles and ‘bimmer’ was the term for BMW automobiles, but talking back would only make things ugly. Adam settled for an ambiguous nod, because going with it was easier than rocking the boat.</p><p>His father seemed to sneer at his holeless clothes and grime-free hands. Then, without another word, he took a long drink of his beer and went to go sit on the couch. As for his mother: she didn’t hug him when she emerged from the kitchen, but Adam hadn’t expected her to, anyway. </p><p>(He wasn’t upset about it. It was better if neither of them touched him.)</p><hr/><p> </p><p>Gansey set himself up in his old room. It was the only place in their manor where clutter could be found, but even then, it was nothing like what he had at his apartment. He found himself longing for his stacks of old books, his collection of defunct antiques, his mismatched sofa and arm chairs and other furnishings. He would have preferred to be at 300 Fox Way or at the Barns, where proof of <em> living </em>was made plain to see, rather than hidden for the sake of elegant minimalism.</p><p>“Welcome home,” Helen said from his doorway, rounding a corner with a crystal goblet of some beverage or another. Gansey turned without bothering to slide on a practiced smile.</p><p>“Hello, Helen,” he responded. “How is the wedding planning looking this winter?”</p><p>“Fairly well, I would say,” she hummed. “And how is school going?”</p><p>“Rather well, I would say.”</p><p>Helen raised her eyebrows. “That was an invitation for you to talk about your studies, you realize.”</p><p>Gansey tipped his head at her. “I realized. I was sparing you from having to go through the trouble.”</p><p>“<em>Oh</em>, Dick.”</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>thursday evening</strong>
</p><hr/><p>Just before dinner was finished, Blue excused herself from the kitchen -- she silently slid into the backyard to sit under her tree, ever her favorite place for respite. It was the end of autumn, though, and without any shoes, the chill of the crunchy grass seeped into her skin without mercy.</p><p><em> He </em> joined her outside no more than five, tennish minutes later.</p><p>“May I?” He asked. Blue huffed in response, neither welcoming him or rejecting him. He -- Artemus, a fittingly strange name for a strange man -- sat down.</p><p>“You don’t need me to say ‘I’m proud of you,’ do you?”</p><p>Blue closed her eyes. “No. We’re strangers.”</p><p>She assumed his silence meant that he agreed.</p><p>“You’ve got a lovely tree here.”</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>“Do you know how old it is?”</p><p>“Eighty-six, if I did the math right.”</p><p>“Circumference divided by pi times a growth factor of... Six, is it? For beech trees?”</p><p>Blue looked at him sideways.</p><p>“...Right.”</p><hr/><p>Declan daintily pierced a slice of roasted chicken with his fork. “You’re still not interested in going to school, are you?”</p><p>Ronan clicked his tongue. “That’s a stupidass question. No.”</p><p>“And Gansey has no qualms with this?”</p><p>“The only one who has a goddamn issue with it is you.”</p><p>“Language at the table. Elbows, too. Honestly, Ronan.”</p><p>“Jesus fucking goddamn Christ, you know you’re not our dad, right?”</p><p>Declan flinched, but in the same second, he righted himself. “I’m not trying to be.”</p><p>“Yeah? Then how about you quit trying to fucking father me?”</p><p>“Ronan, if you just held onto your temper, for once in your--”</p><p><em> “What, </em>Declan? What do you want to hound me for ne--”</p><p>“I told you, I’m not trying to--”</p><p>“He’s <em> dead.</em> So if you want to be him so badly--”</p><p>“You guys,” Matthew whispered. He was wide-eyed and looking between him and Declan, reminding them both of their younger brother’s presence. “<em> Please. </em>”</p><p>...Before he could say anything that would especially upset Matthew, Ronan balled his hands into fists and stormed out of the kitchen.</p><hr/><p>“Adam,” his mother said from behind him. “I’ll wrap up them dishes. Your father wants to talk.”</p><p>
  <em> No. No, no, no-- </em>
</p><p>Cold dread heaved in his gut, threatening to make him lose what little dinner he had eaten. He needed to leave -- he needed to walk to Blue’s -- he needed to call Ronan --</p><p>
  <em> No-- </em>
</p><p>“Alright,” he responded.</p><p>Adam dried his hands and squeezed past his mother.</p><p>In the living room, his father stood over his bag, though its contents were strewn about the foor: Adam’s clothes for the weekend, the old laptop he scrounged the money together to afford, notebooks, pens -- and on a rickety little table, everything in Adam’s wallet was laid out. A library card. His student ID. Some Amazon gift cards he earned by doing some student satisfaction surveys, his bus pass, a polaroid of himself and Blue--</p><p>And in Robert Parrish’s hands, a small stack of bills. </p><p>Adam didn’t have anything outrageous. It was no more than seventy three dollars, just an estimate of what he might need to pull his weight for the weekend with the others and then some. He intended to pay his mother for a portion of the groceries she bought for dinner and everything -- but his dad didn’t know that.</p><p>And seventy three dollars was more than enough to make him furious.</p><hr/><p>“I’m coming in,” Maura announced. Blue rolled onto her side so that she wasn’t facing the door. “Will you talk to me?”</p><p>“Maybe in three weeks. I won’t tell you why, though.”</p><p>She sighed and sat on the edge of her mattress. “Well, your haircut is cool.”</p><p>“I know it is.”</p><p>“Did you do it yourself?”</p><p>“Stop. You could have--” Blue caught herself. She was extremely tired of hearing ‘could have.’ “You should have called.”</p><p>“It’s surprisingly difficult to find a phone in the woods.”</p><p>“You should have told someone.”</p><p>“I thought I would be gone for three days tops, maybe.”</p><p>“You still should have told someone. Are you going to apologize or not?”</p><p>“I’m sorry. I thought you’d like him, and I knew it was time. And it had to happen like this.”</p><p>
  <em>And it had to happen like this. </em>
</p><p>Blue rolled her eyes at her rather dingy apology, but… After a moment, she flopped onto her back and spoke again, voice dripping with sarcasm. “What, would the timeline have collapsed otherwise?”</p><p>Maura squeezed to lay beside her. There was either grave seriousness or complete jest in her tone. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”</p><p>It wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear.</p><hr/><p>In a moment of unavoidable deceit, he texted Ronan ‘See you tomorrow,’ even though he had every intention to skip their planned weekend and catch the first bus back to Warren.</p><p>Adam was ready to leave. Adam was excited to leave. Adam remembered why he didn’t want to come back, and he felt foolish for hoping that things could be different after all this time.</p><hr/><p>His youngest sister, Adele, passed him a tray of bread rolls. After taking one for himself, Noah alley-ooped a second across the table to his other sister, who caught it with both hands and a snicker. He missed his siblings an awful lot, and now that one of them was wrapping up high school and the other just started college, Noah found himself longing for their youth.</p><p>“Noah,” Mrs. Czerny chastised, but it was empty of any scorn, so Noah grinned at her instead of apologizing. They laughed, they caught up, the Czerny siblings all talked about how they were doing in school, Noah poured himself another glass of schnapps--</p><p>“And you’ve not been skateboarding at college -- right, Noah?”</p><p>His mom looked at him with pursed lips and a pinched brow. Noah took a drink. Had they seen holes in his shoes? He’d brought his griptape-weathered Vans for tramping around the fields at the Barns, but he’d left those in a bag in the back of his Mustang. So unless someone had gone through his things in a ridiculous invasion of privacy--</p><p>“No,” he lied, shaking his head, “of course not.”</p><hr/><p>Adam’s plan was thwarted when he realized that he was between paychecks. </p><p>And that he’d just sent in his rent. </p><p>And his father had taken every dollar in his wallet.</p><p>It meant that he’d <em> have </em> to rely on someone. Maybe Blue? He could walk to 300 Fox Way in the middle of the night -- but God, Maura and Calla and Persephone. They’d want him to call the police. They’d think it would be easier, just because he was over eighteen and not living at home anymore but--</p><p>No. No, he’d turn to Ronan. Ronan was the only one of them that Adam had seen in a similar bruised state, so if anything, it would be fair.</p><p>Not pitiful. <em> Fair. </em></p><hr/><p>
  <strong>friday morning</strong>
</p><hr/><p>Apparently, while Adam had been asleep, Robert Parrish looked into Warren Grey University for the first time. He hadn’t been happy about the tuition and fees Adam was paying, so come first light, he made him pay again.</p><p>By the end of it, the old popping in his jaw had returned.</p><p>Adam felt weak for considering calling Ronan. He felt weak and he felt pitiful and he felt--he felt the pain of an impossible decision: his independence, or his health? It had always been his independence before, because if he didn’t have his independence--</p><p>There was only shame.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>friday afternoon</strong>
</p><hr/><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em>Do you have the time to head into town?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Whenever you can is fine.</em>
</p><hr/><p>Sometime before sundown, Dean dropped her off just a little into Singer Falls. Blue insisted that she’d be fine walking the rest of the way because one, it was a straight shot through some oak trees, and two, she wanted the time to think. </p><p>He didn’t argue. It bothered him that she didn’t have a knife on her, but Christmas was around the corner and she’d have one again soon enough.</p><p>(Green, this time -- not pink.)</p><hr/><p>Ronan grabbed his keys as soon as he got Adam’s text and he left as soon as he brushed past Gansey. The drive from the Barns to Henrietta was just about twenty minutes -- fifteen if he rushed, but Ronan hadn’t gauged any urgency from Adam’s texts, or anything. He just liked driving fast.</p><hr/><p>Ronan didn’t know a thing.</p><p>Adam wondered how he could keep it that way, with the splotchy bloom of purple and red around his temple. And what of Gansey? Noah and Henry would be there too, and Blue…</p><p>He touched his fingertips to his cheek and winced at how tender the bruise was. It matched the ache in his ribs and the pain in his neck and the soreness of his arms. Adam had never learned to hide from his father; he only learned to hide what his father gave him.</p><p>This time, though, he knew there’d be no hiding.</p><p>(But it was fine. He’d be fine. When he ducked his head and kept working, things always ended up being fine.)</p><hr/><p>Gansey hurried into the living room.</p><p>“Jane?”</p><p>Noah and Henry were both seated and solemn-faced -- Henry shook his head and Noah looked towards the kitchen. </p><p>He flashed them both a tight, grateful smile before hustling to find her.</p><hr/><p>Ronan pulled into the dirt driveway of the place he dropped Adam off just two nights before. A woman’s face peered at him through open curtains, but when she noticed him scowling at her, she yanked them closed.</p><p>For good measure, Ronan slammed his palm down on the horn and flipped the window off.</p><hr/><p>“There you are,” Gansey said.</p><p>Blue had heard the Pig’s tires crunch over the gravel in front of the farmhouse earlier -- really, she should have known that he was going to try and talk to her. Instead of responding, though, she hugged her knees tighter and leaned her head against the railing of the porch staircase. The stoop creaked as Gansey invited himself to sit beside her, and for a moment, Blue considered scooting closer and dropping her temple against his shoulder.</p><p>“So,” he sighed. “Vis-à-vis our last conversation… Care to elaborate now?” </p><p>She huffed her fringe out of her eyes and remained silent for a long time. Eventually, she spoke.</p><p>“Well, she came back,” Blue mumbled, feeling the dam of frustration and emotion threaten to burst inside of her. “With my father<em>.” </em></p><p>In the corner of her eye, she noticed how Gansey had furrowed his brow. “I apologize, Jane. I don’t believe I’m following.”</p><p>The words rushed out.</p><p>“He was gone before I was born -- then my mother traipsed into the woods to find his cabin-dwelling butt and bring him to dinner. <em> That’s </em> why she was gone for three weeks. And it was stupid, because I don’t need a dad and because she has a <em> boyfriend, </em>but we talked and we got along and it was--it was just easier to not think about what I missed out on having. Except now I know he exists, and everyone just kept talking about all the other possibilities and ‘could be’ this and ‘could have’ that and how thankful I should be because I don’t have to deal with them, only now I can’t help but wonder about what--”</p><p>
  <em>What my life could have been, if things just were different.</em>
</p><p>(Could he feel it, too? That horrible ache of wanting to mean something more to the world? The terrible, terrible feeling of having potential while having nothing to do with it?)</p><p>In the middle of her rant, she glanced over to find Gansey still looking confused. Blue herself felt confused, too. She couldn’t pretend to understand the strangeness of her family: Persephone’s cryptic comments about alternatives, Calla’s dry and unfunny jokes that made only Persephone smile, her mother’s inability to just be a mother instead of a psychic <em>supposedly</em> upholding spatial and temporal balance when Blue just needed a mother, her weird dad with his weird knowledge of trees and stars that somehow rivaled her own--</p><p>“Nothing in my life has ever been normal, except for me. But I don’t like normal, and I especially don’t like thinking about how unremarkable my life is. When my family brings up how different things could be, I think about how I could be studying <em> abroad </em>or traveling instead of still being in frickin’ Virginia, and about...”</p><p>She scuffed her toe against the wooden steps, closed her eyes, and dropped her face into her arms and knees. “I think about doing and having and <em>being</em> something more. All the time.”</p><p>Gansey was silent as he rubbed his thumb against his lip. Blue sighed.</p><p>“I’m tired and the curriculum at Warren is really difficult. School is stressing me out and my family life isn’t helping. That’s it.”</p><p>Gansey touched a hand to her shoulder.</p><p>“I have to say,” he said, “that I find you astoundingly remarkable. And as different as things ‘could be,’ I couldn’t be happier to know you. Here and now.”</p><hr/><p>The BMW’s horn, only slightly muffled, blared through the trailer. Adam grimaced (<em> damn </em>Ronan) and clutched his bag tighter against his person as he looked around to make sure that he had everything. His wallet and his phone were in his pockets, his laptop and books were in his bag, he’d already collected his toothbrush and toothpaste from the bathroom--</p><p>“That boyfriend of yours gots some goddamn nerve,” Robert sneered.</p><p>(Adam didn’t know what bothered him most about the statement: the gross understatement of Ronan’s nerve or the homophobia.)</p><p>“He isn’t my boyfriend.”</p><p>“He better fuckin’ not be, unless he wants a beating, too.”</p><p>Robert Parrish and Ronan Lynch? He knew, very well, who would win that brawl. Adam was paralyzed by the idea of doing anything more than raising his arms to defend himself; <em>Ronan</em> wasn’t anything like that, and in a strange way, that made his aggressiveness admirable. Adam’s mouth twitched the tiniest bit as he headed for the door.</p><p>Robert noticed.</p><p>“You think that’s funny, huh?” He slammed his beer onto the meager coffee table. “Get the hell back over here, boy.”</p><p>A disgustingly familiar, freezing panic seized him. </p><p>For the first time in years, Adam <em>actually</em> considered running away from his problems. Ronan was just outside, waiting to drive him up to the Barns, then back to Warren at the end of the weekend -- away, away, away. Far from the horrible place that he shouldn’t have been stupid enough to even consider returning to. Adam had just been hopeful that two and a half years of being away would have allowed <em> some </em>light to crack through his father’s bitter darkness. He’d been hopeful that something could have changed, hopeful that his mother had grown a shred of concern in his absence. </p><p>But even though his hope had been misplaced, Adam had always been too prideful to run.</p><p>“No,” he said, and he reached for the front door. “I’m leaving now. Goodbye.”</p><p>“You -- you ungrateful little <em>shit</em>, what did you say to me?”</p><p>Adam swallowed air, greedy and thankful that it was free.</p><p>“I said no. I’m leaving. Goodbye<em>.” </em></p><p>He twisted the handle and pulled open the door, and he saw Ronan glaring at him from behind the wheel BMW--</p><p>But then the wind was ripped from his lungs alongside a blow to the back of his head--</p><p>And the ground disappeared from beneath him, replaced by the railed stairs of the trailer--</p><p>And then there was white.</p><p>Ringing.</p><p>White.</p><p>Yelling.</p><p>White.</p><p>Ringing--</p><p>White--</p><p>
  <em> Ronan. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>god i love bluesey. god i love pynch. i want to write kissing so badly. i know we’re 70k words in but i still feel the need to draw this out ksjddb</p><p>thank you guys for continuing to read :’))) i’ve been a lil scattered as of late but i’m really trying to hop back onto the train here. i’m also just having fun rolling w the punches in the story, though, so yeehaw amirite</p><p>(i hope blue’s frustration makes sense, too? idk bro, i’ve just been Thinking about how rough it must be to be in her position and how maybe living w the psychics means she’s way more sensitive to existentialism. i think i’m tipping a little into trc-logic territory, but i kinda vibe w it because hey, this is literally an AU hehe)</p><p>please tell me what ur thinking!!! i really appreciate the feedback. u guys rock, so much love!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. hope, can you forgive me for staying on the ledge?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>serva me, servabo te.</p><p>(save me, and i will save you.)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When a man stepped out of the doorway to crouch over Adam’s crumpled form, Ronan got out of his car. </p><p>When that man grabbed a fistful of Adam’s hair and yanked his head up, Ronan ran. </p><p>When the man threw Adam’s face back into the dirt, Ronan <em> knew, </em>and when the man stood and kicked Adam’s side and yelled at him to get up--</p><p>Ronan was there, and Ronan was swinging.</p><p>He lunged around Adam and threw himself into the man, using his momentum and weight to knock him backwards. Once he found his footing again, Ronan stood between where the man had been and where Adam was curled up with his arms around his head. Adam’s assailant staggered for a moment, then righted himself, then grabbed for Ronan with venom dripping from his yellowed teeth.</p><p>“Who in the fuckin’ -- who do you think you are?” He snarled, trying to wrench his hands into Ronan’s shirt. “That’s my goddamn son,boy, ‘n I’m gonna--”</p><p>But Ronan was quicker. </p><p>He pitched his fists and kicked Adam’s <em> fuckshit father’s </em>feet out from under him, though Parrish dragged them both to the ground -- they fell and they kicked, they yanked and rolled and punched -- thin clouds of dirt stirred around them as they brawled, the woman kept screaming, Adam didn’t move -- Ronan pinned his knee into Parrish Senior’s gut and snatched for his hands and they kept seething, scrambling, thrashing and clawing and scratching--</p><p>The woman from the window was yelling and waving a phone from the doorway.</p><p>Once his father was down, Ronan used everything in him to keep from punching him the way he’d punch Kavinsky: until they were <em> both </em> bleeding out. Usually, Ronan Lynch fought to win. He fought with those swings of fire and brimstone, with incendiary insults tossed like matches into oceans of gasoline, with swears and curses strung together like dark spells in a forgotten language.</p><p>This time, he fought for Adam, and that was a little different.</p><p>He wrenched Parrish’s arm behind his back and mercilessly forced his face into the dirt until red and blue bounced across the trailers surrounding them.</p>
<hr/><p>The rest of the evening happened like this.</p><p>The police arrived. While two officers dragged Robert and Ronan away from one another and toward separate cars, a third talked to Adam, and Adam shakily recounted what had happened.</p><p>Robert Parrish was arrested, and on Adam’s account, he was to be charged. </p><p>Ronan Lynch was nearly arrested, but on Adam’s account, he wasn’t to be charged. </p><p>Robert Parrish’s wife stood in front of the trailer, a stony-faced shade that willed Adam to face her. </p><p>But Adam didn’t look back. He was taken to the hospital and Blue, who’d been listed as his emergency contact since high school, was called on his behalf.</p><p>Ronan, ever stubborn, had refused any and all medical attention, so he was questioned on the spot. Once he was allowed to leave, Ronan climbed into the BMW and told the cops not to ‘fuck this shit up like a bunch of shitfuck bootlicking fuckheads’ and hit the gas so hard that his car screamed down the street. The police could have properly arrested him for speeding in a residential district, among other things.</p><p>They didn’t.</p>
<hr/><p>Noah and Henry had volunteered to accompany Gansey and Blue into town, but at the latter two’s behest, they both stayed behind at the Barns. Noah took down plates from the cupboards and put food in bowls to be microwaved once everyone returned while Henry went about inflating an air mattress in the living room and making space for a second -- basically, they kept quiet and they kept busy for as long as they could. But it wasn’t long enough.</p><p>They eventually both found themselves back in the living room, solemn and pensive and worried about Adam and Ronan. Noah rubbed his hands together, hoping to generate some heat to combat the nervous chill that settled into his bones. </p><p>“I hope they’re okay,” he mumbled, mostly for the universe to hear, rather than Henry. He heard and responded anyway, of course. </p><p>“They are all quite robust in their own ways,” he said, “and I have faith that they will return in time.”</p><p>Noah didn’t point out that Henry didn’t say anything like ‘in good health’ or ‘mostly unscathed,’ or something. Instead, he just crossed his legs and nodded. Was this how his siblings and his parents felt when they’d gotten the call about <em> his </em> hospitalization, all those years ago? Helpless? Waiting was agony. What was he supposed to do? Pick up a Switch controller and pass the time? Stress-eat a slice of the pie Blue brought? He couldn’t just pretend like--</p><p>Henry put a hand on his shoulder.</p><p>It was heavy with the weight of Noah’s untruths. </p><p><em> No, </em> he lied to his mother, in front of his entire family, when she asked if he’d been skating. <em> Of course not. </em></p><p><em> There was an accident, </em> he told almost all of his friends. Everyone but Henry. <em> That’s all. </em></p><p><em> I fell, </em> he had told the paramedics, bleary-eyed and slurring and barely aware of the light they flashed into his eyes, <em> no helmet. </em></p><p>Ronan eventually got back first. He slammed the front door behind him and stormed upstairs.</p>
<hr/><p>Adam didn’t say anything to either of them when they picked him up, nor did he protest when Blue grabbed his bag from him. Adam Parrish didn’t ask for help, and it was just as rare for him to accept it when it was offered -- he just didn’t have the energy to deny it, as he usually did. Like when Ronan had...</p><p>The word ‘defended’ was one that he was still struggling to accept.</p><p>He let Blue take the passenger seat, so that he could strategically sit behind Gansey, rather than diagonal from him and more within his sight. His newest injury wasn’t visible, but Adam still had bruises from the night prior and that morning -- bruises that he didn’t want Gansey to gape at, bruises that he didn’t want Gansey to pity him for. Despite everything, Adam was still concerned with his pride. It was a shredded and mangled thing, but he clung to what was left of it.</p><p>He pressed his forehead into the headrest of the driver’s seat. Adam’s mind was reeling with it all: the words <em> ‘post-traumatic hearing loss’ </em> and ‘ <em> not fully covered by university insurance’ </em> and the <em> pity </em> on Gansey’s face and the memory of Ronan and his father clashing and the thought of everyone finding out what kind of place he came from and <em> their </em>inevitable pity and--</p><p>All over seventy three dollars.</p><p>This was why Adam Parrish didn’t let himself hope for things. </p><p>In Gansey’s world, hope didn’t have a price tag -- but in Adam’s, it cost everything. He shouldn’t have hoped that things would be different; he should have learned his lesson before. He shouldn’t have come to Henrietta; he should have known that this would happen. He shouldn’t have been tempted by the idea of time with Ronan and their friends; he should have never looked back. He should have not <em> hoped.</em></p>
<hr/><p>It was dark when they arrived and found the BMW already parked in front of the farmhouse. Adam took his bag back from Blue, and before she could insist on bringing it in for him, he walked to the front door and let himself inside. She and Gansey followed, but by the time they made it in, Adam was gone.</p><p>“Upstairs,” Noah said, sounding weary from where he sat with Henry on a couch. “So’s Ronan.” </p><p>Gansey wanted to ascend after them. He wanted to know what had happened, because either the hospital attendant that called Blue hadn’t said much or Blue was withholding information. He wanted to know if Ronan was alright, since he’d denied medical care. He wanted to be aware and in the loop and not ignorant to his friends’ pains -- and was that such a terrible thing? </p><p>He thought not. Trouble was, before he could step towards the staircase, Blue caught his arm.</p><p>“They’ll probably want space,” she murmured. She had fidgeted with her clips so much during their drive that they were even more askew, and under any other circumstances, Gansey would have let himself think more about how lovely she looked. Instead, he knitted his brow in silent protest, then nodded a moment later. He closed his hand over hers and squeezed.</p><p>“I trust your judgement, Jane,” he said, because he did. Blue gave him a smile, and for the interim, it was enough to steady his nerves.</p>
<hr/><p>Even though Parrish Senior had been sloppy with his punches, Ronan still had scrapes to show for their brawl. Really, though, it was the fine dirt and dust from the driveway that annoyed Ronan most -- it had gotten all over his clothes (his shirt was discarded on the floor) and in his mouth (rinsed out) and under his nails (scraped clean).</p><p>Ronan was washing his face in the bathroom when Adam found him. It seemed like they kept meeting in bathrooms, with Ronan injured and Adam equipped with medical supplies and tensions high and hearts thumping too fast. Ronan would have made a dry observation of how Adam seemed to have a <em> thing </em> for cornering him in restrooms, if not for…</p><p>Well, everything.</p><p>When Ronan looked up from the sink and opened his eyes, Adam was staring at him with the help of the mirror.</p><p>Well, no. Not quite at <em> him </em> -- there was no eye contact.</p><p>Adam was staring at his back.</p><p>Ronan dragged his tongue over his teeth and scowled when he tasted dirt. He needed a beer. He needed a shower. He needed--</p><p>The bathroom door shut and Adam leaned against it. In slow motion, he slid down the length of it until he was sitting on the floor, and neither of them said anything as Ronan backed up to sit beside him. As Adam ducked his head into his arms, Ronan closed his eyes. </p><p>What had gone through his head when he threw himself between Adam and his father? When he reflected, the answer wasn’t the simple ‘nothing’ that it usually was when Gansey asked him, in that Gansey tone of his, ‘Ronan, good grief, what were you thinking?’ He hadn’t blacked out the way he did when it came to kicking Kavinsky’s ass, and he hadn’t worked on pure feeling the way he did when it came to racing--</p><p>He’d been thinking of Adam.</p><p>The whole time, it was Adam. </p>
<hr/><p>“It seems,” Henry started, “that there is an incident every time I am in your company.”</p><p>Blue trudged over to one of the air mattresses on the floor and flopped backward onto it. “If you think you’re causing all of this, you must be incredibly self-centered.”</p><p>“I cannot tell if that is you being kind or you being rude.”</p><p>Truly, he couldn’t. While Henry was neither ignorant nor arrogant enough to honestly think himself to be the catalyst of every one of their hardships, it also was not something that he could easily ignore. Could he not have a simple evening with companions? Was it too much to ask of the powers that were? By being present, was he positively contributing or taking away? Of course, there was also the indisputable fact that he was merely a guest and that nothing that happened had anything to do with him. He very well could have not been there.</p><p>Ah.</p><p>Hm.</p><p>Blue’s tone didn’t change. “Guess.”</p><p>“Well, she’s correct,” Gansey added. He sat on the floor beside Blue’s air mattress. “You just happen to be present. I won’t call it coincidental, but…”</p><p>He sighed. Blue pushed herself to her elbows to look at him, then at Noah, then back at Henry.</p><p>“At least they’re safe,” she reminded the room. “You two saw them both walk upstairs, right?”</p><p>When Henry glanced over at him, Noah was staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah, they’re safe. But are they <em> okay?” </em></p>
<hr/><p>“You didn’t have to.”</p><p>Ronan scoffed. “No shit,” he said. But Adam couldn’t shake the way it sounded like he meant <em> ‘but didn’t I?’  </em></p><p>He gritted his teeth.</p><p>The renewed silence between them was more palpable than before. Adam wondered -- what was left for him to lose in Henrietta? What was he holding onto? When he got back to Warren at the end of the weekend, he’d convince himself that Thanksgiving was just a bad dream. He’d wake up everyday with the consequences of his choices, yes, but his future was waiting to be made elsewhere. He was fine. He was <em> fine. </em>He could still do school, he still had his hands, he could still work--</p><p>Ronan mumbled something. Adam couldn’t quite catch it, since he was sitting on his left -- next to his bad ear.</p><p>The concept made his stomach heave. He had a <em> bad ear. </em></p><p>“What?”</p><p>Ronan didn’t respond and frustration ballooned in Adam's chest, threatening to pop.</p><p>“Well, I owe you one,” Adam grumbled, eyes still closed. It was easier to do than say ‘thank you.’ </p><p>“No, you don’t.” </p><p>With three words, Ronan made being in the same room as him almost impossible -- Adam didn’t want to feel <em> indebted </em> to <em> anyone. </em>And with what Ronan did that evening, how could Adam not--</p><p>“We’re even, ‘cause I’m not in cuffs,” Ronan continued. <em> “Serva me, servabo te.” </em></p><p>Adam’s eyes snapped open with an urgency he’s never tasted before.</p><p>
  <em> Save me, and I will save you. </em>
</p><p>He stared down at his hands, but he could feel the intention and intensity of Ronan’s gaze on him. It felt the same as his mother’s eyes: silently imploring, but too dignified to be pleading. It also felt different from his mother’s eyes, though -- hopeful, rather than scornful.</p><p>Adam Parrish was tired of hoping for things, but when his eyes climbed from his hands in his lap to Ronan’s chest to his eyes… What was he supposed to say to that? What <em> could </em> he say to that? </p><p>“C<em>edere nescio,</em>” Adam whispered.</p><p>
  <em> I know not how to yield. </em>
</p><p>Ronan offered Adam his hand.</p><p>“<em>Vacate et discite.” </em></p><p>
  <em> Be still and learn. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>a bit of a shorter chapter but!! it is all that really worked for this part. :-) i hope you all enjoyed!!! thank you guys so much for reading, it makes me so happy to know that there are people like,,, genuinely interested in this fic. seriously. i almost cannot believe it. i appreciate each and every one of you.</p><p>SO. will they kiss in the next chapter? will they not kiss in the next chapter?? vote now in the comments on what kind of author u think i am, benevolent and merciful vs &gt;:)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. why do we run, when there’s no need to fight?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>adam talks to blue; ronan talks to gansey</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When he looked at Ronan’s open hand, Adam didn’t see himself grabbing it -- he saw hands scrabbling for a shirt that Ronan was already not wearing and hair that only he had. He saw exhaustion and frustration and anger and hurt transmuted into a different kind of desperation; he saw choking on having too much air and not enough touch. He saw Ronan’s lips on his fingers, reverent. Mouths crashing against mouths, chests heaving, minds reeling. He saw the same things he witnessed dreams, impossibly played out in reality.</p><p>Adam’s vision had gone blurry. He blinked.</p><p>That wasn’t what he wanted, was it? Or <em> was it?</em></p><p>He didn’t -- he didn’t know. That was, if anything, his brain short circuiting, recoiling from an impact both emotional and physical. He didn’t want <em> Ronan, </em>he was confused and tired and battered, so he could want -- really, Adam could want anyone. Anyone who’d hold him more carefully than his father did. He could want Blue. He could go downstairs and grab Blue’s hand and kiss her around a corner, the way he wished she’d let him when they were actually dating, and he’d feel the same ache burn in his chest. </p><p>Ronan was judging him, surely.</p><p>How could he want Adam now, when he knew the truth about where he was grown? Adam Parrish was broken, Adam Parrish was a mistake -- Adam Parrish was pitiful and Ronan Lynch was full of pity. If Ronan had been arrested because of him… Adam didn’t want to think about the leash of obligation that would tether him to Ronan. Even though Ronan didn’t ask for anything, Adam felt a sickening imbalance in his gut. Like the one between him and Gansey, only the thing being weighed was not money, but grit. </p><p>And a willingness to not get beat. And the capacity to fight back.</p><p>Adam hadn’t been thinking straight for <em> weeks. </em> He fooled himself into thinking that he could come out of that damned double-wide unscathed after two and a half years -- he got out, by the skin of his teeth, he actually <em> got out,</em> and then he fucked up by walking right back in. And he paid for it. He stopped making school and work his only priorities and he paid for it. This time, he wouldn’t be able to make enough sacrifices and investments in his lifetime to make it worth it.</p><p>He wanted to sleep. But he also considered not letting himself sleep ever again.</p><p>Adam turned his head.</p><p>Ronan put his hand down.</p><p>They sat in a silence far different from the one they shared on the back porch of the farmhouse, just two nights ago. Adam remembered how Ronan’s hand fit under his, but it was too late to ask for it back.</p><hr/><p>The living room was quiet when Adam descended the stairs with an unreadable expression. Gansey didn’t ask any questions right off the bat, but Blue could tell that he wanted to, so she was proud of his restraint.</p><p>Adam walked into the kitchen and she had been the one to trail after him. It was only right.</p><hr/><p>Blue squeezed his hand before she left.</p><p>Gansey, on the other hand, had been prepared to climb the stairs to find Ronan. A short time after Adam and Blue departed for the living room, however, the Lynch in question dropped down the steps and left through the front door. Gansey’s concern reached an impossible new height -- had they fought? Were they upset with one another? What happened to the flirting? He couldn’t tell, he hadn’t caught either of their expressions during their respective retreats but--</p><p>“Damn it all,” he huffed under his breath, and he stood up to jog after Ronan. “Lynch!”</p><hr/><p>Adam filled a glass with water from the tap. Blue wrinkled her nose as she heaved herself to sit on the island counter.</p><p>“We have pomegranate juice,” she said, and then because it was important for him to know: “I brought it.” Not Gansey, not Ronan, not Henry or Noah. Given where they went to school, it wasn’t surprising that their other four friends came from significant wealth, just as it didn’t surprise her that Adam was only more obstinate in his personal code of never letting anyone lift a single finger for him or spend a lone penny on his account.</p><p>Blue wondered how he felt now.</p><p>Adam drank his tap water, filled it up a second and third time, drank more, rinsed his glass, dried it with a towel, then returned it to the cupboard. He was so good at making places look as though he were never there, at erasing any and all proof that he existed somewhere -- but rather than impress her, it made her feel...</p><p>No, it didn’t make her feel bad for him. Adam hated when people felt bad for him. She learned that the hard way, and that’s why she didn’t say ‘I’m sorry about your father. How are you feeling?’</p><p>Blue just felt sad that he thought that he couldn’t allow himself to take up any space, no matter where he was. She felt sad that any kind of sympathy for him came across as pity, and she felt sad that even now, there was so little that she knew about this boy. </p><p>What could they have been, if they only just talked?</p><p>She supposed that it didn’t matter. The only ‘coulds’ she was interested in were the ones in front of her, not behind her.</p><p>“Blue?”</p><p>She looked up from where she was staring at her knees -- they’d been her distraction to keep her from looking too much at the purpling around his cheek. Her heart ached when she thought about Adam facing his father after all this time and about Adam alone in the hospital. At the very least, she had the knowledge that Ronan had been there for him. Nobody told her <em> or </em>Gansey that, but it hadn’t been hard to piece it together -- Ronan had gone to pick Adam up, after all.</p><p>“Howdy,” she responded, running her fingers over the short hair at the nape of her neck, thinking of when Ronan buzzed it off. Ronan was proving himself to be a better and better friend, despite how much he probably wanted to be perceived as otherwise. Adam tipped his head at her.</p><p>“Would you kiss me?”</p><hr/><p>“Ronan!”</p><p>He was about to get into his car when Gansey caught up. If he were anybody else, Henry or Noah or Blue, Ronan would have proceeded to get in, turn on the car, then drive away. But since it was Gansey…</p><p>Fuckin’ Gansey.</p><p>He stopped just short of yanking the handle open, allowing Gansey to catch up. Ronan didn’t need to snap anything at him. No ‘what’ or ‘the fuck do you want’ or ‘spit it out’ -- just a look.</p><p>“Ronan,” he said, fixing his glasses. “Are you alright?”</p><p>“Do I look alright?”</p><p>“Is that… Is that rhetorical, or--”</p><p>
  <em> Fuckin’ Gansey. </em>
</p><p>“It’s sarcastic, because hey, I’m fucking peachy. No goddamn reason why I wouldn’t be.”</p><p>“I am disposed to believe that you’re not, in fact, ‘peachy.’”</p><p>“I am disposed to believe that you’re not, in fact, stupid enough to need to say that out loud.”</p><p>Gansey frowned, in that Gansey way of his. “So you’re not alright. What happened up there? What happened with Adam?”</p><p>Ronan threw open the door of the BMW and hunkered down behind the wheel. Without needing any prompting, Gansey claimed the passenger seat.</p><hr/><p>“I beg your pardon?”</p><p>How very Gansey of her to say.</p><p>“Not <em> can </em>you kiss me,” Adam clarified. “I don’t want you to. I’m asking if you would, if things were like before, and if you weren’t…”</p><p>Blue narrowed her eyes at him. “Weren’t <em> what?” </em></p><p>Adam answered simply. “With Gansey.”</p><p>“I am not with Gansey,” she sputtered indignantly, looking red in the face either from simmering anger or something else or both. “I am not -- I’m not <em> bound </em>to Gansey.”</p><p>“Okay,” he relented. It didn’t really matter to him either way, seeing as he was speaking in pure hypotheticals. He didn’t want to kiss Blue, he wanted to kiss -- no, he didn’t. Did he? Adam shook his head, as if clearing it. “Then only the first part of the question stands.”</p><p>“Why do you want to know? What about how Ronan--<em> ” </em></p><p>What was she going to say, what about how Ronan ‘had gotten back, just as punched up as he was, from <em> Adam’s </em>parent’s house?’ He furrowed his brow. He already knew what Ronan had done for him, he was aware. He didn’t need her to remind him. “That’s low, Blue.”</p><p>“No, that’s fair. Since you wanted to imply that Gansey and I are…” She gestured vaguely, using her hands instead of her words to articulate her point.</p><p>“Well, aren’t you?”</p><p>“And if we are, is that your business?”</p><p>“I just asked a question.”</p><p>“And you realize how weird this question is, don’t you?”</p><p>“It’s only weird because you’ve never actually answered it.”</p><p>Blue winced, and Adam knew that he’d hurt her. Adam always respected that Blue didn’t want to kiss him -- or anyone, as far as she told him -- but it was something that had left him feeling burned while they were supposed to be together. What had been so awful about him? What did she see then? And what did <em> Ronan </em>see now?</p><p>“It was not you,” she protested, and though he was aware that she meant one thing, his brain chose to interpret it differently, hungry for just another reason to hurt. Not you, not you, <em> not you. </em> It was not him, broken and broke, poor Adam Parrish. “It wasn’t because <em> of </em> you, it was because I didn’t <em> know </em>you.”</p><p>“And now?”</p><p>Blue wrapped her arms around herself. “I didn’t come in here to upset you more. I didn’t come in here to -- to hash out high school.”</p><p>“And now?” He pressed. A little louder. They’ve done this before.</p><p>“Adam--”</p><p>“If you don’t want to answer, say so.”</p><p>“I don’t owe you anything, answer or kiss. I’m not bound to you, either.”</p><p>“I didn’t say that. I just wanted to know.”</p><p>Blue scoffed. “Know what, Adam? If I’ve changed my prospects, and that I’ll kiss any boy who asks me to? If I’ve kissed Gansey? If I still want you? Because I’m sorry, but <em> I don’t</em>.”</p><p>Adam blinked at her. He nodded. And then he looked away.</p><hr/><p>“You’re fond of him, aren’t you?”</p><p>Ronan sneered. ‘Fond’ was such a stupid word, a soft word, an antiquated word. It was very <em> Gansey </em>and it was annoying. He didn’t respond.</p><p>“I believe,” he sighed, leaning back into the seat, “that I’m quite fond of Jane myself. If confessing that at all helps you feel more inclined to talk about Adam.”</p><p>“It doesn’t.”</p><p>“Will <em> anything </em>get you to discuss him with me?”</p><p>“No, because there’s nothing to talk about. I don’t know why you’re so hung up over this shit.”</p><p>Gansey frowned. “I was under the impression that the two of you were -- <em> talking, </em>as they say. Is that not accurate?”</p><p>Ronan didn’t know either. What <em> were </em>they doing? From the start, things were uncertain, but Ronan was so used to just not knowing that it was easy to roll with. He hardly knew his father as a kid, and yet throughout his youth, he still looked up to the man. Being drawn to Adam was hardly any different, because all it took was a tiny want for more. That tiny wanting always turned out to be everything, as much as he skirted around it.</p><p>They got somewhere, almost. Ronan reached out. Then Adam stepped back.</p><p>And it was fine, because it wasn’t like Ronan <em> wasn’t </em> expecting it -- it wasn’t like that that was the established precedent to… Whatever they were doing. Boomeranging, together and then apart again.</p><p>(The apartment came to mind -- the thumb against his mouth -- the absence of Adam. Then Halloween. His birthday. All the gaps of radio silence in between. And now--)</p><p>The only question was whether or not to keep reaching out.</p><p>He had options. But he wished that racing Kavinsky were one of the more accessible ones.</p><p>Ronan stayed quiet.</p><p>“You care about him,” Gansey said.</p><p>“Are you telling me to or saying that I do?”</p><p>“Saying. I’m not -- God, I wouldn’t <em> tell </em> you to do that. I wouldn’t demand you to. That’s downright medieval. But you care, you’ve shown it.”</p><p>“Gansey, if your dad beat the shit out of you, I’d kick his ass too.”</p><p>“Jesus, Ronan.”</p><p>Ronan stared hard at the dashboard behind the wheel. </p><hr/><p>
  <em> I don’t want you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I don’t. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I don’t. </em>
</p><p>Of course.</p><p>“...Adam,” she exhaled. “Adam, you’re taking that the wrong way. That was a dumb question and you know it, I don’t know what <em>I </em>have to do with -<em>- </em>is this about Ronan? Is this about--”</p><p>“If I didn’t want to hear you talk, I’d only have to cover one ear.” He smiled something grim. Something bitter, something very <em> Ronan.</em></p><p>“You’re shaking,” she whispered. If he was, he didn’t know it.</p><p>“That’s what happened tonight, Blue,” he said, surprisingly even-toned, despite the ugly thing deep inside of him that was trying to claim his voice. It reminded him too much of Robert Parrish. Adam saw flashes of his father: seething, cuffed, led into a police car. </p><p>(Adam would never be free, would he?)</p><p>“That’s the newest thing wrong with me,” he continued anyway. “That’s what I get for--”</p><p>She snatched him into her arms and squeezed him with furious vigor. It was by no means gentle, which meant it was all Blue.</p><p>“Shut up,” she hissed into his collar. “Stop. I don’t want to hear it. There’s nothing wrong with you and you <em> are </em> wanted, so just -- quit it.”</p><p>Yes, all Blue.</p><p>Adam stood still for a moment, letting her hug him, more so for her sake than his. Then he unwrapped himself from her arms, walked through the living room without looking at Henry and Noah, and went outside.</p><hr/><p>Ronan watched him go right past the cars, down the driveway. </p><p>“Adam,” Gansey said, but he didn’t hear, of course. Ronan didn’t know if he even saw the two of them sitting in the BMW, but he didn’t mind. He was considering being done. Ronan knew what he wanted, and what he wanted was Adam, but Adam was clearly on the fence with his wanting.</p><p>Could he afford to wait?</p><p>Did he think Adam was worth the wait?</p><p>He could just try and be done. He could. It wouldn’t necessarily be easy, but if he started now, it would be easier than it would be if he waited. Ronan closed his eyes.</p><p>How much of his life had he spent waiting? Waiting for his father to come back home, then waiting for his twenty-first birthday? Waiting for Gansey to be done with class? Waiting for Opal to need to be looked after, waiting for Chainsaw to need food?</p><p>He was fucking sick of all the goddamn waiting.</p><p>“Are you not going to follow him?” Gansey turned to him, sounding urgent.</p><p>“Nobody’s fuckin’ around up here. He’s taking a walk. It’s fine.”</p><p>“I think,” he frowned, “that you should follow him.”</p><p>“I’m not gonna follow him.”</p><p>“Ronan.”</p><p>When he opened his eyes, it was to Blue standing in the doorway. In a show of his resoluteness, Ronan pulled on his seatbelt. <em> I’m going on a drive, </em> the action said, <em> you can come or you can get the fuck out. </em></p><p>“You follow him, if you care about him so goddamn badly.”</p><p>“Of course I care,” Gansey scoffed. “As mentioned, I thought that you did, too.”</p><p>“Maybe,” Ronan responded, slowly at first, then all at once, like the flames of a molotov cocktail licking up splashed alcohol, “I don’t.”</p><p>It wasn’t a lie, because Ronan Lynch didn’t lie. The ‘maybe’ made that certain--</p><p>But also, it certainly tasted-sounded-felt wrong.</p><p>Gansey got out of the car to tail down Adam. Blue crawled into the passenger seat as his replacement.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hey folks! so sorry, i’ll respond to comments real soon — i’m moving back to my apartment in my college town today and i’m a lil pressed for time. i did, however, want to get yesterday’s chapter finally posted! thank you guys for your love and patience :’) every single comment has made my heart soar. tbh, i check my email constantly after i post bc i just get so excited to hear from you guys. you all rock, hope ur all doing well! &lt;3</p><p>ahah SIKE on the kiss. the slow burn must continue. we r only 28 chapters/75k words in &gt;:)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. i can’t get past you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>friendships grow — blue and ronan, gansey and adam, noah and henry scenes</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><span>Potentially as a result of how much kissing </span><em><span>didn’t </span></em><span>happen in 300 Fox Way, something about kissing</span> <span>made her feel inexplicably bothered. Not in a ‘hot and bothered’ way, mind you -- bothered in a ‘vexed’</span> <span>and ‘affronted’</span> <span>way. Blue knew how simple kissing was, and she knew how much people enjoyed it, and she knew how her thoughts about it made her seem like a prude to anyone who breached the topic with her. But she didn’t care, of course. They were </span><em><span>her</span></em><span> thoughts, and it was </span><em><span>her </span></em><span>mouth.</span></p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kisses</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Blue thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>could mean everything and nothing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And in a world where the choice was meaning everything or meaning nothing, Blue would lean into the former, over and over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(The only exception happened earlier that summer, with a certain Bulgarian dickhead with an unfortunately admirable penchant for stealing and burning Confederate flags. Blue had tried letting kisses mean nothing, but the hard liquor was too unpleasant and the smell of cigarettes was too unpalatable and Joseph Kavinsky was too volatile. Meaning nothing to someone was confirmed to not be her thing. She didn’t like how it tasted.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She thought, perhaps, that looking for meaning in everything was just a result of her nurture, or maybe she just liked finding ways to make the small things seem bigger --  maybe she was projecting, given the contrast between her height and her dreams. Either way, when Adam brought up </span>
  <em>
    <span>kissing, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she’d been fully blindsided. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made Blue remember high school and it made her realize just how foggy her memory of her days at Mountain View High had become. It made her remember how navigating the uncharted waters that was her first romantic interest felt equal parts loudly unnerving and softly thrilling, it made her remember how frustrating it was to have Adam call her his </span>
  <em>
    <span>girlfriend </span>
  </em>
  <span>before they were even </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend-friends, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and it made her remember--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made her remember that there was always something Adam wasn’t saying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her feelings about kissing aside, Blue had a feeling that she knew what Adam’s reticence was about. Or rather: </span>
  <em>
    <span>who</span>
  </em>
  <span> it was about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue Sargent never liked meddling. Her home was a place where everyone’s nose was in everyone’s business, and so she’d grown up to be both strikingly intuitive and largely protective of her privacy. Curious as she always tended to be, she did not meddle. And she would not meddle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She told herself this as she buckled up in the passenger seat of the BMW. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, maggot,” Ronan said, already scowling at her, “if you’re here to tell me to talk shit out with Adam, get your ass the f--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, please. Not everything is about </span>
  <span>you</span>
  <em>
    <span>, </span>
  </em>
  <span>asshole,” Blue scoffed, effectively cutting him off. Ronan responded with no more than a furrowed brow, allowing her to take a breath. After a line like that, he would listen. She just knew it. “Besides, I’m not Gansey, so I’m not here to tell you to </span>
  <span>do </span>
  <span>anything. But I </span>
  <span>will</span>
  <span> say this: you gotta be willing to play the long game. If you’re not, then you’re not right for Adam, and Adam’s not right for you, and so you best back off now. For your own sake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a fine difference between </span>
  <em>
    <span>meddling </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>saying whatever the hell she wanted because fuck everyone else, she was Blue Sargent -- </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Blue was a self-proclaimed expert in the latter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trust me, though,” she continued, with a little less fire and a little more hope, “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am </span>
  </em>
  <span>rooting for you. Now take us to go get milkshakes. There’s a place I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Ronan drove, Blue actively chose not to dwell on the fact that Adam believed that she was </span>
  <span>with </span>
  <span>Gansey. Or had he suspected that she was Gansey’s, as in Gansey-possessive-apostrophe-S? It was a frustrating thought, as off-base as it potentially was. Adam knew her better than that -- or at least, he should have. But she didn’t avoid the thought because she </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>enjoy Gansey’s company. There was just a lot more left to be considered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(After all, meaning nothing to someone was not her thing. She didn’t like how it tasted.)</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>When Gansey decided to follow Adam, he knew that he was walking into territory that made his family dinner conversations seem like an afternoon meadow stroll, rather than a marble minefield. He didn’t quite understand Adam Parrish, but he was certain that he wanted to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This, he felt, was a critical step forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He squared his shoulders, then realized that it was the opposite of what he should have been doing, so he forced himself to relax. Gansey felt at odds with his own mind and body, but still, he persevered. “Adam?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam kept walking, hands in his pockets. “I’m not exactly in the mood to parley, Gansey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gansey scraped his tongue under his teeth. Adam had said ‘parley’ in a way that was clearly a dig at his vocabulary. And Gansey didn’t blame him for it. He was aware that his vernacular was loftier than others -- a result of his upbringing. He told himself that it made communication easier, because a more specific word would mean that he could more specifically express his feelings, but he knew he always came across as fustian.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Fustian -- pompous and pretentious in speech.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was hoping to check in,” Gansey said, quieter, but still walking to keep up with Adam’s brisk pace. “See if there was anything I could do for you at this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There isn’t, but I appreciate the thought.” Adam emphasized the ‘uh’ of ‘appreciate,’ as if making a point of saying it. Gansey’s heard his (Henrietta?) accent drip into his words before, not terribly unlike Blue’s, but Blue’s was much more distinct. There was purpose in the way Adam spoke, likely similar but entirely different from the way that Gansey cherry-picked his words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were not so dissimilar, despite what Gansey had pieced together about Adam Parrish. He felt that truth echo in the auditorium that hosted his heartbeat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, Gansey typically wasn’t inclined to call anyone ‘poor,’ but Blue had schooled him in why refusing to use the word ‘poor’ was actually worse. Still, it felt wrong to think of himself as ‘rich’ and Adam as ‘poor’ because money was not everything. Adam was intelligent and a problem-solver; Adam was observant and pragmatic and diligent. Adam was admirable. Gansey admired him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simply put, Gansey just could not figure out </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>Adam seemed to refuse to be admired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(As he often did, it made Gansey think of Ronan.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He regretted not bringing his coat as the late autumn chill licked up his arms, but even then, he remained undeterred.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May I just continue to walk with you, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does someone pay you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gansey blinked. “I beg your pardon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does someone pay you,” he repeated, “to do these things? To be like this? Is that where you get your money?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something rustled in his chest, something buzzed in his ears. Adam stopped and turned around. Gansey shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid that I’m not following.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam’s voice grew increasingly curt. “Actually, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>following. And that’s what I’m asking: why are you following me? What do you have to gain?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The knowledge that you are safe and well,” he easily returned, not missing a beat. It was Gansey the Politican’s Son speaking, but for once, he was saying something Just Gansey actually meant. ”I asked for your permission, Adam, and you’re welcome to decline. I merely wanted to see if I could be there for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I see you as one of my friends, naturally.” Gansey put his hands in his pockets. “Friends are there for one another, are they not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the dark, he couldn’t make out Adam’s expression, but he felt like it shifted. The trees whispered it, and their message was carried by the wind. Gansey once again wished that he had a coat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can walk with me,” he finally said. “Do you have an EpiPen on you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gansey smiled.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“When you were friends with Kavinsky,” Blue started. Ronan stopped her there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends </span>
  </em>
  <span>with Kavinsky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, jeez. When you were </span>
  <em>
    <span>whatever </span>
  </em>
  <span>with Kavinsky,” she corrected herself, “did you two ever…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ronan raised his eyebrow at her. Blue and Kavinsky was a -- it was a strange thought. He knew that Kavinsky let plenty of girls drape themselves over his lap and hang out in his cars and shit, but when he found out that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Blue </span>
  </em>
  <span>had been one of those girls… He didn’t believe it. And really, he still didn’t. Blue was too fucking annoying, too goddamn herself, to let half of Kavinsky’s shit slide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did </span>
  <em>
    <span>you?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you were wondering, I still very much hate when you answer my questions with questions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ronan pointlessly stopped at a stupidass red light because Blue had yelled at him when he ran the one before, and crimson washed over them through the windshield.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing wild</span>
  <em>
    <span>,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Blue revealed, sounding annoyed about it. “I was not and am not a fan, so it didn’t go far. It never meant anything in the first place, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t press him to share. He liked that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The light turned green and he sped through the intersection.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Noah, once again, felt like the setting was claiming him. It didn’t make him feel sad or bitter or upset -- he had two younger sisters, so he grew up in a household where he received the least attention from his parents. It was just the way things were, and Noah Czerny was too bright-eyed to let it stop him from enjoying his life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only time it really became an issue was when it made him feel actually useless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noah liked to think that he knew how to make someone smile and laugh, except their evening -- their evening had been anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>but </span>
  </em>
  <span>smiles and laughs. And Noah didn’t know enough about what had happened to know what to do about any of it. Blue got to the Barns lacking her usual spark, Gansey showed up when Ronan left, then Gansey and Blue rushed out because ‘something happened to Adam’ (which had been alarming), then Ronan came back all bruised-up (which had been even more alarming!), and then Adam and Blue and Gansey returned…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he’d just been </span>
  <em>
    <span>sitting</span>
  </em>
  <span> there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The four of them all left again, and he was still just sitting there.</span>
</p><p><span>He felt a little better with Henry around. Noah had an inkling that he felt kind of similar -- or rather, he hoped</span> <span>that Henry did. He wanted to stop hoping, though. He wanted to know, because there was so much that he </span><em><span>didn’t</span></em><span> know.</span></p><p>
  <span>Noah crossed his legs on the couch, hands in his lap as he tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...You feel a little out of the loop with all of this too, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry laughed, a lone ‘hah.’ “‘A little’ is a contemptible understatement. But, in general, I have resigned to a backcloth position in many aspects of my life. I shine in some areas, I lack luster in others. As it goes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noah scrunched up his nose. He wanted to ask </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘What aspects? Where do you shine, and where do you lack?’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>“But these guys are -- we’re your friends. That makes it different, doesn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose,” Henry conceded, “but in the same vein, I am not nearly as close to Adam as Blue is, or as close to Ronan as Gansey is. I find that I get along fairly well with the latter of both pairs, though there is much that I do not know about the former set.” He shrugged. “There is much that I do not know about all of you in general.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a point and Noah knew it, because Noah had always felt the same way. But Blue had reassured him that it was only a matter of time -- that they weren’t all close </span>
  <em>
    <span>yet </span>
  </em>
  <span>-- and so he felt the need to share the optimism with Henry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wanna find out though,” he responded. Noah phrased it as a statement rather than a question. In other words: he phrased it hopefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The opportunity,” Henry said, smiling the kind of smile that made Noah smile too, “would be a true honor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think this would have sucked a whole lot more without you,” Noah admitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am glad that you are here as well.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Blue was fine with bringing it up because she figured that, if anyone would, Ronan would get it. But she didn’t feel so keen on saying that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> had her first kiss at twenty-one with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Joseph Kavinsky, </span>
  </em>
  <span>so she didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they pulled into the drive-through, the light of the parking lot illuminated the inside of the BMW. Blue’s eyes caught on something awfully familiar when she looked across the dash--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grinned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, is that my--on your keys--?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her keychain. His birthday present. Blue was, as Ronan would say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit-eating.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He sneered at her, as he always did when she said something either true or annoying or both. “And if it is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothin’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I fucking thought.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“I snapped at you earlier,” Adam said. “I’m sorry about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus. You shouldn’t be, you were well within your rights.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam looked up, catching jigsaw pieces of the sky through the treetops. “Was I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I struggle, sometimes, to sunder myself from my privilege. It’s fine that you recognize that. It’s good that you recognize that.” Gansey shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sunder,” Adam echoed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gansey managed a laugh. “See?”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>When Ronan and Blue returned to the farmhouse, it was with six large milkshakes. Blue had carried four in (Ronan didn’t protest), while he held the other two as he walked in behind her. Noah and Henry and Gansey and Adam were all seated in the living room: Gansey on the floor beside the coffee table, Noah and Henry on a couch, Adam separate from the group and staring out one of the windows looking over the pastures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe in another life, in another time, Ronan would have gone to stand with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not this one, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sugar fix, everyone,” Blue announced. Noah happily accepted two, passed one to Henry, and gave his thanks. “Gansey, here. This one’s coffee-flavored.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked touched. “Oh, Jane.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, Jane,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ronan mimicked. “Shut the fuck up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue grinned at him. “Jealous?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of a white bread ass nickname like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jane? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Yeah, sure fuckin’ am.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her expression went sour while Ronan’s became smug. “No, not of -- oh, you prick. You bastard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop talking to me,” he snapped. “Gansey’s smiling about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh--” Gansey sputtered. “I don’t know what you’re going on about, but I--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fumfering,” Blue snickered, just a second faster than Ronan could start and finish the word. He swore at her for stealing his barb, she flipped him off, he scowled. She was goddamn annoying and so was the way that Gansey looked at them whenever they talked. Ronan knew exactly what Gansey was thinking, too: </span>
  <em>
    <span>my God, their burgeoning friendship is a wonderful thing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He directed his scowl at Gansey for good measure, though Gansey had been focused on sipping at his milkshake. Blue made a comment about investing in metal straws (she was the only one not using a plastic one), Gansey devoured it, Noah looked guilty and went to get a spoon, Henry seconded Blue’s consciousness, they started talking about the climate and big corporations being responsible for the </span>
  <em>
    <span>true</span>
  </em>
  <span> damage, not straw-users--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ronan tuned out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at where Adam stood, arms folded, jaw tense. His cheekbones were hollowed by the yellow glow of the lamps in the room, and it looked like he had finally changed out of his trailer park dust-covered shirt from earlier--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue cleared her throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Ronan looked up at her, she pointedly glanced at the other drink left on the table. Without all of the bells and whistles and unnecessary other words, this is what she had told him in the car:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Play the long game.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hello everyone! thank you for reading and for your patience :’) school has been picking up but i am still trying to update regularly, hehe. i may end up taking an extra day here and there, so i super appreciate the support and understanding &lt;3 </p><p>it has made my days to read your guys’ comments and thoughts. i can’t tell you how motivating and uplifting it is to have such a wonderful source of positivity in my life. i check my email like crazy and every single word you guys leave me makes me feel so happy, so thank you! for all of your time! you are all amazing!!!</p><p>(also if u want to be friends on discord or anything totally Hit Me Up bros 🤠)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. it's what's in between that's the best</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>adam introspection, gangsey friendship stuff featuring a good ol' game of never have i ever</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gansey’s goal for the rest of their time at the Barns?</p><p>Gently aid the reparation of the new rifts that cracked the ground between the group. </p><p>Though finishing Friday proved difficult with Adam’s distant nature and Ronan’s biting nature, the weekend nevertheless continued. Gansey very well knew that time didn’t care if the world was ready for it to pass -- it moved regardless of how much will was exerted upon it. It was unmalleable, accepted as it was (however reluctantly), it refused to conform to what it was urged to become--</p><p>Gansey rather liked time. He wished that he were a little more stalwart in himself, the way that time was.</p><p>On Saturday morning, after everyone had a chance to sleep, he rose early enough to clean up what had become of the kitchen. Their dinner from the night prior had been a free-for-all with the leftovers from Ronan’s meal with his brothers and food Blue brought from Fox Way, and if he recalled correctly, they’d gone to sleep with a mess of Tupperware still out on the island counter. Gansey had been expecting at least a sink full of dishes, at the very least.</p><p>Instead, he found that the kitchen was spotless.</p><p>Adam was hunched over some books, studying at the dining table. The hues of the bruise on his face had deepened, but Gansey tried not to let his gaze linger for too long. When he realized that he was simply standing in the doorway, he opened his mouth, closed it, thought again, then spoke.</p><p>“Good morning,” he said, “did you…”</p><p>Adam likely already knew what his question would have been, the same way that Gansey already knew what his answer would be. Fresh coffee trickled into a pot beside the microwave. Dishes were drying on a rack adjacent to the sink. There wasn’t a set of Tupperware in sight.</p><p>“It didn’t take long,” Adam said, not looking up from his book, “and I needed the space.”</p><p>At once, Gansey found himself even more perplexed by Adam Parrish. </p><p>Something had driven him to clean an entire kitchen on his own, just to read a book and take notes on a table completely removed from the actual mess. There had been no real reason for him to tidy up after <em> everyone</em>, and yet, he had been compelled to do so anyway. They could have helped, though -- they all could have. The only problem was--</p><p>“You’re rarely keen on accepting assistance, I’ve noticed,” Gansey blurted. </p><p>His mouth had moved faster than his brain and so the observation tumbled off of his tongue.</p><p>Adam turned the page of his book without ceremony and spoke with little intonation. “I don’t accept what I don’t need.”</p><p>Gansey remembered the diner, that first night that the two of them and Blue and Ronan found each other -- he recalled how Adam simply refused to let Gansey foot the bill, and the disagreement that ended their evening, and his later talk with Blue. Even after a little more than a month of tentative friendship, he still couldn’t understand how Adam’s mind worked; he just knew it was a brilliant one.</p><p>“Regardless,” Gansey responded, hoping it didn’t sound dismissive, “your effort is appreciated and doesn’t go unnoticed. Thank you.”</p><p>...The words felt insufficient, but after Adam’s “You’re welcome,” Gansey felt himself glow. </p><p>It was the first time Adam Parrish took something from him. It had only been gratitude, but Christ, it counted -- it absolutely counted.</p><hr/><p>It was only a ‘you’re welcome,’ but it felt good to be saying it to Gansey. After the way things happened the evening before, Adam’s pride needed every crumb it could get its hands on to mend itself.</p><p>Echoes of sirens and his father’s hisses rang in his ears -- no, his <em> ear. </em>His mother’s face and the cruel, sterile white of the hospital haunted the back of his eyelids. He saw Ronan, too. And Blue. And Gansey. The police’s faces were fuzzy, but he knew what he had said, because he knew what he needed to do to make sure Ronan didn’t get arrested.</p><p><em> For you, </em> his brain urged. <em> He did that for you. He saw you. He saw, he saw, he saw. </em></p><p>...Adam didn’t know if it was a good thing, bad thing, or terrible thing that Ronan had seen him. A want that he always had but was never strong enough to name had been partially satisfied: Adam wanted someone to see, and he wanted them to see that he was innocent.</p><p>Their apartment, the evening after he worked on Kavinsky’s car. The blood on Ronan’s face -- the first injuries that indicated what kind of trouble he was. Adam had reached out anyway, because his fingertips itched for it. They twitched against the page he wasn’t actually reading.</p><p>
  <em> I thought about seeing you, so I did. </em>
</p><p>Halloween, the bathroom. The aftermath of Kavinsky’s party, the blood on Ronan’s face, the gasoline in their veins, the fumes in the air. Rubbing alcohol and bandages and Ronan’s eyes, piercing invitations to drown. Adam remembered how he pressed his palm to Ronan’s forehead to keep him still, as if stillness were an issue. Warmth.</p><p>
  <em> What are you doing? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What I know how to do. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Which is? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Fixing. </em>
</p><p>Ronan’s birthday. The Pig, chugging into Henrietta. Then the BMW, sitting in the gravel driveway. Ronan beside him. The trees, sighing and swaying with the autumn air. His throat felt dry.</p><p>
  <em> Why are you here? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Why are you? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I asked you first. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Home is hard. </em>
</p><p>The day they worked on the planters. Behind the farmhouse. Noah was getting water. Electricity crackled in the air, memory of the wind whispered over the nape of his neck. His bruises throbbed.</p><p>
  <em> I’m sorry that you were hurt, because whatever it was and whoever did it, you didn’t deserve it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You’re right, I didn’t. But he probably did. </em>
</p><p>The bathroom, just the night before. Adam turned his head, aching too much to accept Ronan’s hand. Ronan didn’t get angry, or demand that Adam looked at him, or insist that he owed Ronan for putting a roof over his head, or--</p><p>
  <em> “He deserves hell,” Ronan said, right before Adam walked out. “You don’t.” </em>
</p><p>Adam blinked. </p><p>He was back at the kitchen table. He never left.</p><p>Adam hadn’t stopped working on his readings, but only because he never started. Apparently, Gansey had picked up a book of his own. Did Gansey know? Blue had to have known for a long time. But Gansey -- did Ronan say something? Did Blue? The two of them had been sitting at the dining table in silence when Blue and Henry became the third and fourth persons in the kitchen. </p><p>Blue, still pajama-clad, skipped a proper greeting and frowned as she looked around. “Hey, did you two--”</p><p>“Adam did,” Gansey responded. “I hadn’t gotten up early enough to help. Ah, apologies, Jane. I cut you off.”</p><p>Blue flapped her hand in dismissal of Gansey’s apology and thanked Adam, but based on her eyes alone, Adam knew what she was thinking: ‘<em> he feels like he owed it to Ronan.’ ‘He’s paying a debt.’ ‘He did it out of obligation.’ </em></p><p>And she wasn’t wrong.</p><p>Ronan had to clean up after him. Adam would return the favor until they were equal again, because until they were, the world wouldn’t feel right.</p><p>Had he traded one demon for another?</p><p>(And was he still a demon if Adam actually liked him?)</p><hr/><p>Noah had been the last one to get up, but as soon as he was awake, he was brighter than the sun, a bullet ricocheting around the living room. He only sat down again when Blue chipped off the rest of her nail polish, then broke out a little zip-up pouch of little bottles to redo her fingers.</p><p>“Wait,” he said, plopping down beside her, “can you paint mine? Can we match?”</p><p>Blue hadn’t smiled that widely in a long time, as far as he could remember. Noah mirrored her grin and held his hands out for her.</p><hr/><p>“Okay, but if we’re talking about previous lives, then what about deja vu with experiences that have to do with, like -- you know, technology?” Noah wrinkled his nose. “Like deja vu with a text message.”</p><p>“You can have a past self from this century, I think,” Blue reasoned.</p><p>“I believe,” Gansey said, “that it may make more sense to say deja vu is tapping into the brain of an alternate self.”</p><p>Henry put two fingers to each of his temples, as if trying to do just that. “Ah, as in from parallel universes?”</p><p>“Precisely,” Gansey nodded. “Now, if every other possibility in the world is occurring right at this moment--”</p><p>“Wait, like the possibilities of this?” Noah gestured to the living room of the farmhouse. “Or like, everythingintheworldever?”</p><p>“The second one,” he responded. “As overwhelming as it is.”</p><p>Blue jumped in. “I think it’s easier to imagine if you stop thinking about time as a line. There’s no past or present when it comes to alternate timelines, there’s only whatever moment you’re currently experiencing.”</p><p>“Perhaps so,” Henry chimed, “<em> but, </em>that line -- pardon the double entendre -- of thinking can be bent to support the initial argument, a la deja vu being a memory from a past life. If everything is constantly happening, then it is entirely possible that you are remembering something that has happened in a lifetime you have already lived. Maybe that past self is not a complete reincarnation, but merely another version of you that has, somehow, perished.”</p><p>“True!” Blue relented. “But you’re hypothesizing. I’ve lived with psychics my whole life, and what I think about time is based on what they’ve told me. And I already believe that there’s an alternate universe for every variation ourselves, down to each little choice.”</p><p>“I’m inclined to side with Jane for such reasons.” Gansey gave Henry an apologetic shrug. Noah blew on his nails so they’d dry a little faster -- he was putting a glitter topcoat onto his base polish.</p><p>Henry snapped, then pointed Blue. “Does that mean, then, that there is a parallel universe where I am correct and you are wildly mistaken?”</p><p>The room went quiet. Gansey had his thumb on his lip and Blue was squinting at the ceiling; Ronan was playing an old video game on the TV and Adam was reading. The latter two hadn’t participated in their discussion, but their focused expressions still fit the mood. Henry looked proud when Blue sighed in admission -- yes, there had to be, she said.</p><p>“Oof,” Noah rubbed his forehead with his palm, mindful of his nails. “My brain hurts.”</p><p>“You guys are fucking weird,” Ronan finally contributed. To everyone’s surprise--</p><p>“Seconded,” Adam deadpanned.</p><p>Gansey looked at Blue, and Blue at Noah, and Noah at Henry and Henry at Gansey and all of them at each other. Gansey was the first to smile.</p><p>They’d been listening.</p><hr/><p>Blue didn’t read tarot cards, but she knew what they all meant and she knew how to shuffle them. When Gansey asked her about them, she borrowed Adam’s deck and Blue described how her family would serve a customer. As she folded and restacked and threw the cards between her hands, however, two slipped out--</p><p>The Page of Cups. Death.</p><p>The two shared a look, both keenly aware that the other was thinking about the picnic, then Gansey handed Blue both of the cards and she slid them back into the deck.</p><hr/><p>“Adam, if we were to eat the rich, which one of them would we start with?” Blue asked, head tilted as she considered the others in the room. “Not Noah, I think.”</p><p>Noah stuck his tongue out at Ronan and Henry and Gansey.</p><p>“No, not Noah,” Adam responded, and the fact that he was talking made everyone sit up a little more. “Not Henry, either.”</p><p>“I will not forget your kindness,” Henry said, bowing his head into a nod. “And when the rich are inevitably devoured, I will rely on you to keep your word.”</p><p>“Hey, I said <em> first,” </em>Blue pointed out, “none of you are safe. Except Noah.”</p><p>Noah stuck his tongue out at Ronan and Henry and Gansey (again).</p><p>“So Ronan or Gansey?” Adam asked. Blue tapped her nose in thought, and when she and Adam looked at each other again, their answer was unanimous.</p><hr/><p>When Noah noticed the skateboard in the coat closet, he forgot about what he was looking for. Noah grabbed the deck, barrelled through the hallway, and held the thing over his head for the entire living room to see.</p><p>“Ronan! Did you <em> skate </em>?”</p><p>All eyes were on Ronan. He scowled at them all, but responded to Noah anyway. “When I was a kid, I fuckin’ guess. Not really. No concrete around here.”</p><p><em> But at your other house, there was, </em>Gansey thought. He very well knew which house Ronan preferred, though, and they were sitting in it.</p><p>“You can still do tricks in gravel and dirt,” Noah insisted, rocking on his heels, looking half-ready to drop the thing and pop off of it in some fancy flip-jump that Gansey wouldn’t know the name of. “Go to the skatepark with me and Blue one day, before winter break. C’mon, you gotta. You already have a board.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“C’mon.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“C’mooon.”</p><p>Ronan grumbled his concession, but it was a concession nonetheless. Gansey chuckled and turned to Blue.</p><p>“You skate, Jane?”</p><p>“Roller,” she nodded. He blinked. She cracked a smirk. “The one with the four wheels on each shoe.”</p><p>“Ah.”</p><p>Blue tipped her head at him, smugness even more evident in her features. “You can come with us too, you know. <em> Yes</em>, if you don’t skate.” She jerked her head towards Henry, then nodded at Adam. “These two can keep you company.”</p><p>“I may take you up on that, then.”</p><p>Noah whooped something about a ‘skate crew.’ Ronan didn’t look up, but Gansey could see the smile warming the polar ice of his eyes.</p><hr/><p>Adam went back to studying on the kitchen table when he needed to do work on his laptop. The thing had gotten minorly busted up when he dropped his bag in front of his father’s trailer, but besides the crack on the outer shell, it was fine. </p><p>Ronan walked in. Adam didn’t move his head when he looked up -- he only moved his eyes. Though he had a shirt on, Adam’s brain was permanently seared with the black talons of ink that made up his back tattoo.</p><p>He pursed his lips. He needed water.</p><p>Ronan took a case of one alcoholic beverage or another out of the fridge and shut the door behind him with his elbow. “Never Have I Ever in the living room,” he said, sounding only somewhat vexed by it, “because we’re a bunch of dumbass fucking teenagers talking about cute boys at a sleepover.”</p><p>Adam’s fingers hesitated to return to his keyboard.</p><hr/><p>“Never have I ever -- can we just say ‘I’ve never’? Forget me asking, we’re saying ‘I’ve never.’ Says me,” Blue declared.</p><p>“Tyrant,” Ronan pointed out, taking a drink of his beer even though he wasn’t supposed to. Blue sneered at him.</p><p>“Screw you, I’ve never raised an orphaned raven.”</p><p>Ronan smiled like trouble and drank.</p><p>“Jane, knowing Ronan, I think the way to get him to lose is to make sure he doesn’t drink.”</p><p>Henry shook his head. “The game has not stopped him.”</p><p>Blue called him a bastard. Noah tried seeing if he could fit his finger into the hole of his hard apple cider bottle as he considered his turn.</p><p>“Never ha--I mean, I’ve never… Worn, uh.” He leaned into Blue and whispered. “What are they called?”</p><p>“Boat shoes,” she snickered.</p><p>“Boat shoes!” Noah raised his bottle at Gansey, who sputtered.</p><p>“Henry?” He entreated. But Henry shook his head. “Good Lord. Are we targeting individuals now?” Gansey frowned, not pleased about being the only one who took a drink. </p><p>“Well, if that is the case,” Henry grinned. “I have never been named after a color.”</p><p>“Low hanging fruit,” Blue scoffed. Ronan leaned forward on the couch and put his elbows on his knees.</p><p>“I’ve never been five feet and fully grown.”</p><p>Blue called them both <em>rich</em> bastards this time, and then, following their turn rotation-- “Gansey, don’t make me call you one too.”</p><p>His smile was hardly as apologetic as tone. </p><p>“Alas, I’ve never… Gone to public school?”</p><p>Blue was unimpressed. When she emptied her bottle, Ronan cracked open a second one for her. Her second drink happened to coincide with Adam’s return from the kitchen.</p><p>“Hey,” she greeted, holding her freshly-opened cider up to him. “Playing?”</p><p>To the group’s delight, he accepted.</p><p>Ronan opened one for him, and when he passed it to Adam, their fingers brushed.</p><hr/><p>“I’ve never had a job,” Ronan said.</p><p>Scowling, Blue pointed her bottle at him. “That’s not something to brag about, that makes you spoiled.”</p><p>“Drink up, working class,” Ronan grinned, eyes lingering longer on Adam than they did on Blue. Adam noticed.</p><p>“I’ve never had a trust fund,” he said. He watched as everyone but himself and Blue drank. She nodded at him in solidarity, and for good measure, she mouthed ‘fucking rich people.’</p><p>“It seems that we’ve found our teams for the evening,” Gansey observed, still looking guilty about having taken a drink.</p><p>Blue rolled her eyes. “Real smart, Gansey, divide the room by socio-economic status.”</p><p>“Proceed with your turn before the proletariat decimates you, fellow social elite,” Henry said to a Gansey who looked like he wanted to switch teams. He narrowly managed to evade the bottle cap that Blue chucked at him. “How now, Wendybird, that is a sharp object!”</p><p>“Oh, you can afford the healthcare!”</p><p>“I’ve never,” Gansey interrupted, looking pointedly at Blue, hoping to redirect her fire, “climbed a tree.”</p><p>"First, that's just sad. We need to fix that." Blue drank. “Second, <em> I’ve </em>never needed glasses.” </p><p>Gansey drank.</p><p>“I’ve never been registered as a Republican,” Noah continued, smiling sheepishly -- no, mischievously -- at Gansey.</p><p>“God<em> damn, </em>Noah,” Ronan cackled, holding his bottle out for a toast. Noah cheerily tapped his drink against it. “Fucking get him then.”</p><p>“Jesus,” Gansey whispered under his breath, and upon raising his drink to his mouth, Blue reached over to tip it over further. Then someone started chanting ‘chug’ and Gansey <em> did </em>and Ronan opened another bottle for him and Gansey sputtered and rapped a fist against his chest -- and they laughed, they all did, even Adam. </p><p>Henry sighed and shook his head. “I‘m afraid I must defect, Ganseyboy. I have never been white.”</p><p>“I like you again,” Blue laughed, and the two of them clinked bottles as the rest of the room drank.</p><hr/><p>At some point in the evening, Blue broke out her bowl and her lighter and everybody but Gansey and Adam began nursing a comfortable crossfade. Blue lay across one couch with her head in Gansey’s lap and her feet in Noah’s, Adam remained in an armchair, Ronan and Henry were on opposite ends of another sofa. </p><p>“Nev--er have--I ev--er…” Blue drawled, reverting back to the original phrasing, “Mm. I’ve never learned how to drive a stick shift.”</p><p>Everybody drank. </p><p>“Oh -- what?” Blue raised her head. “Adam, you have?”</p><p>He nodded. After a moment, he properly responded. “Ronan taught me.”</p><p>Gansey’s eyebrows shot up, a bit slower than they would have if he were sober. “He did?” He turned to Ronan. “You did?”</p><p>“Yeah. Noah, go.”</p><p>Both suspicious, Blue looked up and Gansey looked down and, with her hair sticking out around her head like that, he thought that she looked awfully lovely. Blue furrowed her brow in an inquisitive way and Gansey just shrugged as subtly as possible. How hard would it have been for him to fold himself over to kiss her?</p><p>“I think I have a bad one,” Noah announced, and the group only encouraged him to say it, because they were drunk and high and ‘bad’ meant ‘good’ and it was past midnight. He complied. “Never have I ever had daddy issues.”</p><p>The room was still.</p><p>Ronan drank at the same time Adam took a sip.</p><p>Blue pushed herself up enough to do the same.</p><p>Gansey followed suit.</p><p>The air was suffocating with unspoken questions and terrible curiosity.</p><p>Noah looked over at Henry, who hadn’t moved. “Henry?”</p><p>“You define them as ‘issues,’ I simply see them as the facts of my childhood,” he shrugged.</p><p>“Mommy issues,” Ronan coughed.</p><p>A string of tiny smirks were passed around.</p><p>“Alright now,” Gansey cut in. “Let’s play clean.”</p><p>Ronan sneered. “We’re drinking, man, this shit’s not clean.” </p><p>“Well, in my defense, I didn’t have them until literally two days ago,” Blue sighed, her eyes closed. Gansey frowned down at her, but with all the confusion on the other faces in the room, he felt a sparkle of warmth -- he knew. <em> He </em>knew what she was talking about.</p><p>“What do you mean?” Adam asked. He was still only on his first drink, if Gansey recalled correctly. It didn’t seem like he’d been drinking much at all, but nobody called attention to it because it didn’t need to be pointed out.</p><p>“I met him. Two days ago. Mom came back, finally. But with him.”</p><p>“Shit, Blue.”</p><p>“Yeah, so welcome me to the club,” she laughed weakly, sitting up to clink bottles with him. Adam’s gaze was intense as they looked at one another and Gansey couldn’t help but notice. Gansey also couldn’t help but glance at Ronan, but then Ronan looked elsewhere.</p><p>Adam frowned. “Are you--”</p><p>“Yeah,” she said. “Are you?”</p><p>“...Yeah.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>oof! sorry i'm a day late, school has been picking up! i appreciate ur guys' patience as i continue to chug away at writing this bad boy. :') lotsa love!! hope ur all hanging in there, thank you for reading!</p><p>your comments have made my days absurdly brighter. it is such a joy to hear from you all, thank you thank you thank you. i appreciate you all so terribly much, it makes my heart soar!!!! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. but the terrible news</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>a lil more gangsey bonding, closed with bites of pynch / bluesey / czeng</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After time with family, Blue had fewer reservations about drinking with the others. She loved the women of 300 Fox Way with everything she had, she really did, and she was glad that her mom was safe, but… The <em> dad thing </em> was a little much to process.</p><p>So, instead of proper processing, and a case of hard apple ciders later, she was mixing drinks in the kitchen with Ronan and Noah. </p><p>In the smaller crowd and secluded environment, Blue found that Gansey was a little more lax on drinking, too. Henry wasn’t a party host so he was also participating, although Adam--</p><p>Well, Blue actually wasn’t sure if it was considerate for them to drink in his company. She still didn’t know any other details about what happened with his father, which was something she continued to resent, but she knew that alcohol always was a sensitive subject. Adam, however, <em> had </em> accepted a hard cider from Ronan earlier in the night, so…</p><p>She returned to the living room, two glasses of vodka and strawberry lemonade and Sprite in hand. One was passed to Gansey, the other to Henry -- and before she left, she gave him another look. </p><p>Their kitchen conversation had left them on rocky terms, though their exchange during Never Have I Ever gave her hope that things would be alright between them. Eventually, at least. He clearly needed space and she wanted to give that to him.</p><p>Still, it only felt right to include him and offer another drink.</p><p>He pursed his lips.</p><p>“I’ll take care of it,” he said, and so Blue led the way into the kitchen.</p><p>Ronan, master of the house, was playing more of his god awful music when they walked in. Blue groaned at the electronica as Noah slid a glass of pink liquid her way.</p><p>“Suck it up and fix your damn face,” Ronan said. “That’s why I spit in your drink.”</p><p>“Ugh, gross. You’re gross.”</p><p>“He didn’t, I promise,” Noah assured her, “‘Sides, I made it. Oh, hey, Adam -- do you--”</p><p>Adam shook his head. He’d already grabbed a glass from the cupboard, and wordlessly, Ronan passed him the vodka.</p><p>Huh.</p><p>Blue sipped at her drink with her metal straw and wondered how things were between them. It was only yesterday that they picked Adam up from the hospital, which meant it had been less than twenty-four hours since the two of them were holed up in a bathroom on their own. She couldn’t sense any embers of animosity between them, beyond Ronan’s typical attitude and Adam’s typical reticence, but knowing what she knew about Adam’s injuries--</p><p> She knew there was more. There was always more.</p><p>“--lue? Blue. <em> Bluuue</em>.”</p><p>Noah tapped her shoulder. Or had been tapping her shoulder? She blinked twice and allowed her vision to refocus on Noah. </p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“You zoned, Blue.”</p><p>“Whoops. Hi.” </p><p>Noah pointedly glanced at Ronan, who was rifling through the fridge, then at Adam, who was leaning against the counter with his drink in hand. Lingering. Loitering. For Ronan? Probably. “Living room?” Noah asked, and even in her current state, she knew that he meant ‘<em> Should we step out?’ </em></p><p>“Right. Yeah.”</p><hr/><p>Henry was not surprised that Blue elected to sit beside Gansey on one couch, and he certainly was not displeased that Noah sat beside him on the other. Henry raised his glass for Noah to toast as he settled in with a pillow on his lap.</p><p>“You left the two of them in the kitchen alone?” Gansey frowned.</p><p>“They’re fine,” Blue frowned back. “They don’t need a mediator.”</p><p>Henry was not inclined to either disagree or agree. The tension between Ronan Lynch and Adam Parrish had been palpable since the start, but it remained beyond his business. Per usual, however, he was satisfied with the sidelines -- especially because Noah was his company on the bleachers. </p><p>“So what’s next, then?” The man on his mind prompted. “More Never Have I Ever?”</p><p>“I’m unopposed,” Gansey said. Blue twirled her straw between her fingers, an easy smile on her face and her eyes partially-lidded -- clearly under the influence of two different substances. He was sure that he looked similarly, with how much they’d smoked.</p><p>“We could add rules,” she proposed.</p><p>Henry, intrigued, leaned forward. “Pray tell, Azure Lieutenant, what kind of rules?”</p><p>“Like, ‘no calling people by their name’ and ‘no swearing,’ and stuff. ‘No saying drink,’ ‘no pointing.’”</p><p>“I’m assuming,” Gansey said, “that breaking a rule results in a drink?”</p><p>“Ooh, Ronan will hate the swearing one,” Noah laughed. Then frowned. “Well, he’d probably swear just to get to take a drink. Drinking really isn’t a punishment for him, is it?”</p><p>“Then push-ups?” Henry suggested.</p><p>Blue was grinning now. “Or he has to let one of us draw him another tattoo each time.”</p><p>Henry raised his glass at her in respect. “I submit to the committee: every triad of rules broken will result in a punishment that the group decides upon.”</p><p>“Oh, no,” Gansey sighed, making Blue laugh.</p><p>“Oh, yeah!” Noah whooped, making Blue laugh more.</p><hr/><p>Ronan passed on the vodka and lemonade -- beer was more to his tastes. He turned around from the fridge to find Adam still in the kitchen, though, and the silence between them was split by the crack and hiss of him opening his drink. Ronan took a long swig, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.</p><p>The living room was dim, so in the brighter light of the kitchen, Ronan could see his face a little better. The bruising around the fine curve of his cheekbones looked marginally better. Which was good. It was relieving.</p><p>...He hadn’t stopped thinking about him. He <em> couldn’t </em> stop thinking about Adam, clutching his head as he lay in the dirt and his shit father standing over him, poised to punch or kick; Ronan thought about Adam growing up there, and he thought about Adam just <em> taking </em> it, he thought about Adam going back and he thought about Adam changing his mind about being picked up on Thursday night, he thought about--</p><p>Fucked as it was, he thought about how lucky he was that Niall Lynch taught his sons how to box each other instead of how to box him.</p><p>“What?” Ronan snapped. All bark, no bite. Blue’s laughter carried in from the living room and it made Adam look towards the doorway.</p><p>Ronan’s stomach twisted, for some reason, so he took another drink to help it settle.</p><p>“Nothing,” Adam said.</p><hr/><p>Gansey briefed the two other boys on their rules when they returned to the commons. Each rule broken was another drink, and three rules broken was a group-decided punishment. Ronan didn’t protest until the rule ‘no swearing’ was stated, at which point he took a long preemptive drink of his beer and said:</p><p>“That’s some dumb fucking shit, assholes. What the fuck kind of fucking rule is no fucking swearing? The fuck? Fuck you guys. Fucking bullshit. Goddamn.”</p><p>And, with such an opening ceremony, the games commenced.</p><p>They didn’t get too far in before the punishments happened. Ronan eventually said three cuss words and had to let Blue and Noah paint his nails. They flanked either side of him -- Blue painted his left hand pitch black and Noah painted his right hand a sweet pink. At another point, Gansey had said three people’s names and was forced to trade his lavender polo shirt for one of Ronan’s black tanks, and Blue had said ‘drink’ three times, so she had to put on Gansey’s polo <em> and </em> his boat shoes -- both for the rest of the evening. Noah kept forgetting about the no pointing rule and he had to stir salt into his drink (Henry’s idea), Henry had two strikes, and Adam had no slip-ups -- <em> and </em> half of his drink left.</p><p>(Despite being somewhat imbibed, he could still recognize how at-arm’s-length Adam was. He wondered if the two of them could ever become close, the way he wanted them to be.)</p><p>“Never,” Noah said, tapping his chin and swaying side to side just a bit, “have I ever… Said ‘I love you’ in a romantic way?”</p><p>...Glances were exchanged, but no drinks were raised. Gansey peeked at Blue, but at the same time, her eyes had slid over to him. She lifted her eyebrows at him and he shook his head. Gansey realized that, under the guise of a drinking game, their little group was beginning to learn about one another.</p><p>It made his chest flutter. He was giddy with it.</p><p>“Well, then,” Henry pressed on. “A similar inquiry. Never have I ever been in a long term, committed relationship.”</p><p>Yet again, no drinks.</p><p>Gansey felt unexpectedly better about being twenty and never having experienced either. His ‘lack of experience’was something he often thought about, for love and sex and drugs and the like had never been incredibly high on his list of priorities. He was well aware that that put him ‘behind’ many of his high school and college peers, but he supposed that, in his assumption, he failed to realize that there would be other people still at similar stages.</p><p>For the life of him, he avoided looking at Blue.</p><p>“Never have I ever,” Gansey started, “<em> not </em> aesthetically appreciated someone in this room.”</p><p>Noah tipped his head. “So like, you’ve never <em> not </em> thought someone here was cute? As in you always think someone is attractive, is’at it?"</p><p>“I suppose that phrasing suffices, yes.”</p><p>“Bad prompt,” Blue jeered. She seemed to be half-drowning in the lilac material of his shirt -- and it made his heart whirl. “Of course nobody’s drinking. Look at us.”</p><p>“Aha, you think we’re cute.” Noah threw a pillow at Blue, and grinning, she caught it and chucked it back. </p><p>“Screw you, N--nnnnnn. Hah! Nope.”</p><p>“You’ve all gotta stop making these fucking boring,” Ronan complained. Blue raised a finger, marking his second curse word towards another punishment. “Never have I ever lied to someone in this room.”</p><p>Had he? On principle, Gansey avoided lying whenever possible, and unless absolutely necessary. He couldn’t think of a distinct moment of dishonesty towards Henry, or Noah, or Adam, or Blue. Had he lied to Ronan? Certainly, he’s lied <em> for </em>Ronan, but...</p><p>Blue drank.</p><p>As did Adam.</p><p>Ronan looked toward the kitchen.</p><p>“Jane?” Gansey knitted his brow at her.</p><p>She shrugged. “You said my name. That’s two strikes.”</p><p>“Well, yes, but -- you’ve lied to one of us?”</p><p>“And so has Adam,” Henry pointed out. Adam’s face flickered in a way that said he was a little less partial to Cheng.</p><p>“Third strike,” Noah said quietly, nudging Henry’s foot with his.</p><p>“Don’t be paranoid, everyone tells white lies,” Blue dismissed. “I’m not too haughty to admit it.”</p><p>Ronan cut in. “I don’t.”</p><p>“Yeah, well. You’re weird.”</p><p>“And you’re a liar, apparently.”</p><p>“Oh, bite me.”</p><p>“I’m a good fucking Catholic, Sarge. I don’t sin and I don’t have vices.”</p><p>“Oh, then <em> please </em> tell us what you think drinking and street racing is,” Adam deadpanned, so perfect in delivery that Blue slumped against Gansey with laughter. He, too, had grinned at Adam’s retort.</p><p>“Entertaining,” Ronan returned.</p><p>It made Adam snort.</p><p>“I feel as though we have reached an ample stopping point,” Henry observed, standing up and stretching. “I have learned much. Shall we call it?”</p><p>“You’re just trying to get out of a punishment,” Noah accused. Henry smiled in a guilty, but wry, sort of way.</p><p>“Let’s,” Gansey agreed. “Perhaps we’ll put on a movie, if you and Noah could pick one?”</p><hr/><p>Ronan stepped outside for air.</p><p>Adam followed.</p><p>He didn’t <em> need </em>to tell Ronan what had happened, but for some reason, he felt compelled to. Which was stupid, really -- Adam had told Blue, but that was because she was Blue. Telling Ronan meant something entirely different.</p><p>But Ronan had been there when it happened. </p><p>Would he want to know?</p><p>Had Adam tricked himself into thinking that the answer to that would be ‘yes’?</p><p>...Before stepping outside, he downed the rest of his drink.</p><p>Adam gently closed the door leading from the kitchen to the back porch, where Ronan was sitting on the steps, the same way they had when they arrived at the Barns earlier that week. </p><p>Adam invited himself to join him.</p><p>He wished that Ronan would offer him his hand again.</p><hr/><p>Blue put herself on snack detail and Gansey trailed after her.</p><p>“So have you had a change of heart regarding my sartorial choices?”</p><p>She snorted at him. “Definitely not. These shoes are even more awful, now that I have to wear them,” Blue lamented. She took them off right before climbing onto a counter to retrieve popcorn from a higher-up cabinet. Blue hopped down, slipped them back on, and ripped open the packaging. She could smell mint on herself. So very <em> Gansey. </em></p><p>“What about you?” She returned, grinning. “Feeling edgy? Channeling your inner Ronan? Gonna go race the Pig on a highway?”</p><p>“Heavens, no.” Gansey wrinkled his nose in a way that made her laugh. “I’m not a fan of black clothing.”</p><p>“You don’t say,” Blue drawled, as sarcastically as she could manage.</p><p>He was still smiling when she glanced up at him. “No, really, it’s true.”</p><p>“Well, I don’t own much black either, actually. Lots of green.”</p><p>“I like that,” he said. She felt warm. Was it the alcohol still in her system, or had she not fully come down from her high?</p><p>“I could use some lavender,” Blue continued, throwing a package of popcorn into the microwave and starting it up. “This shirt <em> could </em> look cool if I shredded it. Maybe if I cut it up into a top and a skirt.”</p><p>“If you wanted to,” Gansey said, “you could. It looks significantly better on you, I admit.”</p><p>Blue pursed her lips to contain her smile.</p><p>“Oh, really?”</p><p>“Really. Just--”</p><p>He reached over and adjusted one of the collars. His hand was dangerously close to her face, and if he’d just turned his palm, it would be against her cheek. The warmth inside of her chest flared.</p><hr/><p>“What’s a movie that you hate?” Noah asked. The game may have ended, but besides Adam, Henry hadn’t gotten called out for breaking three rules. Noah knew that he had to resort to other means.</p><p>“I cannot think of one, admittedly. I am not much for movies.”</p><p>“Really? You haven’t seen one movie that’cha didn’t like?”</p><p>Henry shrugged.</p><p>So maybe retaliation for the salt in his drink would be a little harder to get.</p><p>“Okiedoke, then. So what’s a movie that you enjoy?”</p><p>“Hm. I have seen the entire filmography of Madonna and I enjoyed her in all of them.”</p><p>“Nice, nice, nicenicenice. Look, we’re getting somewhere. You like Madonna?”</p><p>“Wholeheartedly,” Henry grinned. “The Queen of Pop rules my taste in music.”</p><p>“In which case,” Noah grinned back, picking up his phone. He made sure that he was connected to the bluetooth speakers in the room. “Favorite Madonna song?"</p><hr/><p>Ronan didn’t know why Adam was lingering around him, but he almost -- <em> almost </em> -- didn’t mind. Something about Adam’s presence was more intoxicating than an entire pack of beers. The thrill of potential. An excitement adjacent to the seconds before a race, where everything was on the line and nothing was certain. As they sat on the stoop behind the farmhouse, looking out over the dark field melting into the even-darker horizon, Ronan welcomed the sobering effects of the cold. For once.</p><p>Adrenaline spiked through him every time he felt Adam look over. When Ronan finally dared to steal a glance, too--</p><p>Their eyes locked--</p><p>And Adam’s lips were parted--</p><p>And Ronan’s heart was in his throat and--</p><p>And Adam whispered--</p><p>And Ronan’s heart had all that extra way to <em> plummet. </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hi folks huge thanks to everyone who is still reading! &lt;3 i know it hasn't been very ship-heavy recently but. alas. my slow burn means Friendship and i rly hope that there are people out there who are enjoying the Friendship :') </p><p>it's getting colder over here!!! and i keep thinking about all of the shenanigans these guys can get up to &gt;:) i admit i def feel like i breezed through october/halloween events but....that's ok. it's ok. there's gonna be christmas/winter holiday stuff and more fox way to come. </p><p>anyhoo, i really appreciate all of the support and the comments! i've had a lot of fun just having this project for me to practice writing and i love the gangsey so goddamn much, it's always so great getting to write! and it makes me even happier to know that it's being enjoyed! thank you all so so so much. you're the bests! </p><p>also. i'm in california and i know things aren't Awesome out here, so my heart is with all of my california readers. hope you guys are taking care of yourselves, reach out if you ever wanna chat, ok??</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. oh, take me back to another life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>a week after thanksgiving weekend at the barns, ronan has a dream -- blue has one, too -- he sees adam and she sees gansey. a very bluesey chapter bc i was in the mood for bluesey :')</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ronan dreamed of three things that night.</p><p>First. He saw his father. It was always his father. Niall Lynch lay brained on the driveway and Ronan stared down at him, too used to seeing the body and the weapon to be bothered. It still made him want to retch -- just, less now, because now, he was better. Or maybe just numb. Either way, he only difference between that night's dream and all of the other ones was the fact that, rather than their city home with the concrete driveway, Niall lay on the gravel in front of the farmhouse.</p><p>But then there was a new difference: the body changed, and the gravel melted into fine dirt.</p><p>Second. He saw his father become <em> Adam’s </em> father. That one -- that one was new, because he’d never dreamed of beating the shit out of anybody but Joseph Kavinsky. No, not even his brother Declan. Except now Robert Parrish was on the shitlist too, and the tire iron was gone, and the blood was on Ronan’s hands.</p><p>It wasn’t real, of course. He knew he was dreaming.</p><p>And third--</p><p>Third. The thing that had been Niall Lynch that had become Robert Parrish had now become Ronan Lynch. Ronan stepped -- staggered, even -- forwards (not backwards) when he saw himself on the ground: convulsing, gasping, hands and arms covered with bleeding … Pinpricks.</p><p>He was angry now, and he wanted it to stop. He didn’t want the body to change again, because if it did, and if it became Gansey, Ronan would--</p><p>“Why would you dream this?”</p><p>A voice. A voice, behind him, beside him, in front of him: Adam.</p><p>Ronan looked up from where he was dying in the same place his father did, right beside the car he now drove. He opened his mouth to speak, but--</p><p>A third Ronan. Adam hadn’t been talking to him.</p><p>They talked. Ronan, the real one, listened.</p><p>“Next time,” Adam said, and while the second Ronan was dead on some carpet and the third Ronan was seething, the real Ronan grinned. “Next time you can die alone.”</p><p>Real Ronan jumped in then. As Adam walked away from Ronan Three, he took Adam’s wrist, slipped his fingers around it and pulled him close because it was <em> his </em> dream and nobody else’s, so <em> fuck it </em>--</p><p>The scene changed; they were at the Barns, on the back porch, Ronan could see deer on the horizon. He turned and Adam gave him a funny smile. He touched Ronan’s lips with his fingertips.</p><p>
  <em> Unguibus et rostro.  </em>
</p><p>Adam didn’t say it, Ronan just<em> felt </em> it with everything inside of him.</p><p>It was so visceral, it was hilarious. It was so goring, he was gorgeous.</p><p>Ronan woke up to the sound of Gansey talking on the phone. </p>
<hr/><p>He pressed his forehead against hers and -- no, no. Not hers. The other her, her forehead. His fingers touched ‘her’ cheeks, his sweater was splattered with rain -- and she, the real She, the watching She, could smell it. The rain. Except it wasn’t rainwater that stained their faces. The real She could make out four other figures present, but they were dark and smudgy. One was smudgier than the rest, as if barely there. </p><p><em> It’ll be okay, </em> he said to ‘her,’ <em> it’ll be okay. </em></p><p>‘She’ was silent. </p><p>He drew ‘her’ closer to him. He tried to smile. His breath caught--</p><p><em> Okay, I’m ready, </em> he said, and somehow, She knew that he wasn’t. He never would be. And impossibly, She could feel how much ‘she’ loved him. She could feel much ‘she’ knew that he was lying.</p><p><em> Blue, kiss me, </em> he said.</p><p>And with all the desperation in the world, so powerful that it made Her start to weep too, ‘she’ did.</p><p>And then he dropped to the floor.</p><p><em> The King is dead, </em> the people around them cried in a chorus of sorrow, then again in a language she somehow knew was Latin, then in a language she didn’t know at all. They chanted it. <em> Dead, dead, the King is dead, dead, dead-- </em></p><p>When Blue shot upright in bed, her fringe was sticking to her forehead and her heart was racing and her stomach was churning and her <em> head -- </em> god, it throbbed. She smeared her damp hair out of her face, then clutched her forehead, sucked in as much air as her lungs could hold, chest heaving, mouth dry, lips chapped--</p><p>Her fingers flew up to her lips. They were cold, cold as the dead.</p><p>Blue thought she might hurl.</p><p>When she finally pried them away, it was for the sake of clumsily grabbing her phone out from beneath her pillow. The numbers <em> 1:11 </em>glared up at her, affronting her sight and worsening her headache with their brightness. She furiously rubbed her eyes with the heel of her other palm as she unlocked the device and--</p><p>Her hand came away from her face, just a little wet.</p><p>God. It was a dream. It was just a <em> dream. </em></p><p>Her thumb trembled as she found his contact. She pressed the phone to her ear and sank back into her pillows, eyes flickering between the glow in the dark stars on her ceiling as she listened to the dial tone. Her heart, it was leaden in her chest, it was on the brink of bursting. One ring, two rings, three -- four--</p><p>“Jane?”</p><p>Blue’s exhale was shuddery, latent with relief. He was alive. Of course he was. Why wouldn’t he be? How could he not be? </p><p>
  <em> Dead, dead, dead. </em>
</p><p>“Hey,” she greeted, voice quiet and hoarse. She cleared her throat. “Hey.”</p><p>“Are you -- Jane, are you alright?”</p><p>She wrenched her eyes shut.</p><p>“I forgot to call, is all. Thought I’d do it now.”</p><p>“Pardon me if this is too intrusive, but you sound shaken. Are you sure you’re well? Do you need--”</p><p>“No,” she said, because she didn’t know if she could handle seeing him. “Talking is enough. What are you doing?”</p>
<hr/><p>It was the second week of December. One week since the day they left the Barns had passed, and so it had been eleven days since Adam Parrish lost his ability to hear out of his left ear.</p><p>Seven days were left until finals week.</p><p>Sixteen until Christmas.</p><p>Twenty until his hearing.</p><p>Adam was impeccable with keeping time, because there were only three things he could rely on in the world: the sun, the moon, and himself.</p><p>They were so close to exams that Adam didn’t even consider looking into disability accommodations -- but also, Adam didn’t want accommodations to be made in the first place. What would happen, anyway? Would he have a reserved seat closer to the front of the room? He already sat there, which would make the time and effort of talking to his professors pointless. Adam didn’t need the extra help, he just needed to keep working.</p><p>So he kept working.</p><p>The colder it got, the harder garage shifts and library shifts became. The former was difficult because jackets restrained movement and got caught on things when he tried to work on a car; the latter was difficult because biking in the cold was just a pain in the ass. But Adam didn’t mind, because Adam never minded. They were things that he needed to do, so he without complaining, he did them. That was how it was -- that was how it always was. And it was easier when he thought about how it wouldn’t be that way forever, if he only just kept at it. </p><p>Adam was at Laumonier Stacks, with three hours left of his eight PM to three AM shift, when Ronan stopped by.</p><p>With… Coffee.</p>
<hr/><p>“And now I am here,” Gansey finished, wrapping up his recap, “speaking with you.”</p><p>“Riveting,” Blue hummed.</p><p>“You always are. By the by, I have a proposition, since we’re on the line.” Gansey adjusted his glasses on his face. He was too anxious, too awake to sit or lay down, so he paced a circle around his bed. On the other end of the phone line, he heard rustling -- as if Blue were shifting around. When his watch beeped to signal midnight, he stopped hoping that she would call. How foolish he was.</p><p>Something had been wrong, though. He heard her voice waver once, just for a breath of a moment, and he knew. Gansey didn’t press the matter after she brushed it aside, though, since he knew better than to do that. If Blue wanted to talk, she would talk. That’s how Blue Sargent was.</p><p>“Okay,” she said, and he smiled at the wary intrigue in her voice, “pitch it.”</p><p>“My mother -- she’s running for Congress, you know this. Now, I know what you’re thinking--”</p><p>“<em>Congress</em>.”</p><p>Gansey managed a laugh. “Precisely that, yes. But she’s holding an -- hrm. An event, I’d say. A holiday gala, of sorts, for publicity’s sake.”</p><p>“It’s a charity event, isn’t it?”</p><p>“You might call it that.”</p><p>“And you’re inviting me to go.”</p><p>“Well, all of you, really. I told Ronan first, and now I’m telling you.” Was it a bad idea? He didn’t think so. He was hopeful that they’d come, because when he was around them, Gansey felt like himself. And when he was around his mother’s colleagues? He felt like anything but. It had been so long since he'd had to show his face at an event that he was fearful of losing himself in the champagne and suits. “I’m certain that Henry will find it intriguing, and I think Noah might enjoy himself if you and Henry go, and Ronan might be more inclined to if Adam attends, and Adam…”</p><p>“We’re just one big package deal, aren’t we?”</p><p>“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”</p><p>“Tell me about the dress code,” she said, and Gansey finally found himself capable of sitting down.</p><p>“Formal,” he responded, smiling to himself, “suits and ties and--”</p><p>“Actually, tell me in person. I changed my mind.”</p><p>Gansey had just sat down, but he was entirely unopposed to standing up again.</p><p>“I’ll grab my coat. See you shortly, Jane.”</p>
<hr/><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> [ Link: “life’s worth living, don’t throw it away! :),” a playlist by Noah Czerny on Spotify. ]</em>
</p><p>
  <em>whabam</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>Adam didn’t ask how or why Ronan knew that he’d be working that night, because he could guess well enough. All of his suspicions involved either Blue or Gansey or both.</p><p>What he was actually curious about was why Ronan had shown up at all.</p><p>He didn’t ask that either, though.</p><p>Adam stared at the thermos of coffee Ronan put on the counter he was sitting at, then he flicked his eyes up to his face. Ronan sneered at him, because he was always sneering. The Welsh dragon printed in black ink told Adam that the travel tumbler belonged to Gansey.</p><p>Not bought, but prepared.</p><p>“Don’t be an asshole. I didn’t spit in it.”</p><p>Despite himself, Adam almost smirked. Ronan Lynch didn’t lie.</p><p>Things had been better between them since the weekend at the Barns. Adam sucked up just enough pride to accept that, if not for Ronan, he could have lost more than just his hearing. And Ronan was wonderfully <em> Ronan </em> enough to not expect Adam to be <em> nice </em>to him about it.</p><p>At least, that’s what he figured.</p><p>When he told Ronan about his injury on the back porch, Ronan sucked his teeth and said, verbatim, ‘Damn, that’s fucking brutal.’ But he wasn’t sorry. Adam couldn’t believe how good it felt to know that Ronan wasn’t sorry -- he wasn’t pitying, or all heart, or condolatory, the way he knew Gansey would be if Adam had told him. He was just Ronan. And yeah, Ronan was right that it was brutal; in fact, it fucking sucked. </p><p>That weekend in Henrietta, he realized that he liked how unapologetic Ronan was about himself. Adam knew that it was what he’d liked about Blue, too, once upon a time.</p><p>“There’s another catch here, then,” he said, cautiously turning the cup around on the table without looking away from Ronan. “Are you going to tell me what it is?”</p><p>“Ask again later,” Ronan said, already walking away, “when you give the thermos back to Gansey.”</p>
<hr/><p>[ Henry ]</p><p>
  <em> [ Link: “If you can’t be unafraid, be afraid and happy,” a playlist by Henry Cheng on Spotify ]  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>When Gansey and the Pig ambled down the road, Blue was bundled up in several layers of sweaters that she’d stitched herself. Her scarf was also handmade, and it was the first to be shed when she climbed into the front seat.</p><p>“It’s just terrible out there, isn’t it?” Gansey greeted, still wearing his own coat, despite being in the heat of the car. Blue grumbled something about climate change as she continued to unravel the knit from around her neck and mouth.</p><p>“It’s supposed to snow soon,” she told him, reaching over her shoulder to buckle in. “That’ll be fun.”</p><p>“Dastardly Car Trouble Season,” Gansey lamented. Blue sympathetically pat the dashboard of the Pig.</p><p>“It’s always Car Trouble Season for you.”</p><p>“How scathing of you to say, you who so deeply wounds me and my dear automobile. Speaking of cars, though,” he continued. Blue peeked over at him. She couldn’t see much of him in the dark, but every time they passed a light, she got a flash of cheeks made rosy from the temperature. He was alive -- very much so.</p><p>When Blue’s eyes trailed down to his lips, she furrowed her brow and looked forward again.</p><p>Maybe she should have called her mom instead.</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“Ronan’s was gone when I got up.”</p><p>“You’re worried.”</p><p>“About him? Always, admittedly,” he sighed. “I’m sure he’s fine, though.”</p><p>Blue hummed.</p><p>“We could go check the peaks, if you want to,” she suggested. “If we drive there to talk, we might pass by him on the way. Put your little hummingbird heart at ease.”</p><p>“How scathing of you to say,” Gansey repeated, “you who so deeply wounds my little hummingbird heart.”</p>
<hr/><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em> Thanks </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> why </em>
</p><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em> The coffee? </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> yeah no shit smartass </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i mean why are you thanking me </em>
</p><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em> Do you not want me to? </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> fuck no, so fuck off </em>
</p><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em> Alright. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Thanks. </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>“--and so I was thinking,” Gansey said, leaning forward to peer through the windshield the way Blue was, “that we could do a gift exchange, of sorts?”</p><p>She leaned back in her seat to look at him. He knew that she’d been trying to look at the stars, because she always seemed to be looking at the stars. “Like a Secret Santa?”</p><p>“Precisely,” he grinned. “Small gifts, of course. Nothing outrageous, so as to be most--”</p><p>She raised an eyebrow at him.</p><p>“--conscientious of our respective financial situations,” he finished.</p><p>Blue nodded, satisfied with his phrasing. He exhaled and smiled. “I like it. We could draw names, maybe, if and when we have that study session.”</p><p>“And we can consider having the exchange happen prior to my mother’s event, of course. I don't want to invite ourselves into Ronan's home.”</p><p>“Gansey?”</p><p>His attention shifted from the trees outside of the car, back to Blue, to find that she was staring at him -- hard. He dipped his head, prepared to ask again if she was alright, but--</p><p>“Jane?" He responded. "What are you thinking?”</p><p>The words felt strange in his mouth, like he shouldn’t have been the one to say them. Only that hardly made any sense, and words were simply words.</p><p>Blue blinked at him. Unless the dim yellow glow of the car light deceived him, he could have sworn that her eyes briefly slipped to his mouth.</p><p>His throat felt dry.</p><p>She shook her head and climbed out of the car.</p><p>There was something so awfully familiar about the moment that it made his heart ache. Gansey considered giving her space, but it was much too warm in the Pig, and with how much his head was spinning, he knew he’d benefit from the fresh air, too. So he got out, and together, in silence, they leaned against the Camaro and stared up at the stars. </p><p>Oh, how he’d beg just one off of her, under all of this.</p><p>“Hey, stop. You’re ripping the skin off of your lips,” Blue observed. She sounded faraway, for some reason, despite being right beside him when he looked. Gansey pulled his thumb away from his mouth to look down at it.</p><p>“Am I?”</p><p>“They’re probably chapped. Here.”</p><p>From her pocket, she produced a little tube -- lip balm, he realized. She was offering it to him.</p><p>Gansey accepted it with cold fingers.</p><p>
  <em> Mint. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>howdy howdy my friends!! thank u all, as always, for reading and commenting. i hope ur all hangin in there :')</p><p>gosh!!! i originally tagged this as no supernatural but like,,, idk. as i've been writing, i've become more and more fond of the idea that the gang gets feelings about Fate when they're together. nothing explicitly magical or paranormal, but gently and healthily metaphysical?? i don't anticipate any heavy discussion of it beyond the fox way ladies being all :) hm. hello raven children it's psychic time :) i just rly love them being fated 2 be with each other skjkd</p><p>i'm very soft for bluesey. i've been having a lot of feelings about bluesey. and since this is my emotional support project you guys will read about my feelings for bluesey, so sorry my dudes xxxxx</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. so before you go, just so you know</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>a very gansey-centric installation this time around my friends</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Adam only showed up to Gansey and Ronan’s apartment the Friday night before <em> finals </em>because he didn’t want to have to keep Gansey’s thermos in his possession. If something happened to it, he’d owe Gansey. If he forgot about it, he’d owe Gansey. If he didn’t give it back, he’d be cramming for his tests with a debt-in-process weighing his brain down. Adam just couldn’t be bothered to hold onto it.</p><p>Well -- that, and Blue insisted that he needed to come over. If not to study with the rest of them, then to at least talk about their plans for winter break.</p><p>Adam knocked and tugged on his left earlobe out of new habit, Gansey opened the door, and Adam promptly held out the container.</p><p>“Adam,” he greeted, ever bright like the lights on a mint condition Cadillac, kept in a garage like a collector’s item. Gansey glanced at the thermos and tentatively accepted it. “This is…?”</p><p>“Ronan lent this to me,” Adam said. “Earlier this week. I’ve already washed it.”</p><p>“Oh. Oh! Well, then thank you for seeing to its return,” Gansey responded, turning the thing around in his hands. “A colleague hosted me in Wales some years back, you see, and I ended up amassing quite a collection of objects printed with the heraldic dragon of their f--”</p><p>Gansey stopped himself short. He looked sheepish, and whenever Gansey looked sheepish, Adam liked him a little more.</p><p>“Terribly sorry, I’m rambling. Please, come in.”</p><p>Adam hadn’t planned on staying for very long, but then Blue popped up from behind Gansey and her face lit up. And, when he looked past their shoulders into the living room, he saw Noah.</p><p>Ronan, too. </p><p>Adam checked his watch.</p><p>“I can spare an hour,” he said.</p><p>“Nice.” Blue smiled, holding out a fist for him to bump.</p><p>“It’d be an honor,” Gansey said, doing the same.</p><p>“Get in and close the fuckin’ door, it’s cold as balls,” Ronan called.</p><p>“Henry’s headed over now!” Noah called, too.</p><p>Adam knew, knew, <em>knew </em>that he had schoolwork to be doing. When he walked in, though? When he took off his shoes and shed his coat and found a seat beside Blue in the living room, he felt the strangest thing. He almost thought it'd be called 'belonging.'</p><hr/><p>“Here we are.” </p><p>Gansey set a tray onto the coffee table -- on it, there was a fresh pot of coffee, a collection of different mugs, cream, and sugar. He was already a coffee-at-night sort of fellow, but with how much reading and studying that needed to be completed, he knew that the whole lot of them would benefit from the caffeine. </p><p>Blue started pouring out cups before he could.</p><p>“Much obliged, Richardman and Blue Planet,” Henry said, accepting a mug when Blue passed it to him. As he fixed his coffee with a bit of half-and-half, no sugar, he looked between the two of them. “Now, I hear that there are matters to be discussed, of some sort? Pertaining to the coming weeks?”</p><p>“Indeed,” Gansey confirmed with a nod. “I’ve already spoken to Ronan and Blue for the sake of gleaning interest, but to be perfectly clear, my intention always was to invite all of you. I'm bringing this up now as a group, however, for the sake of potentially orchestrating--”</p><p>“You’re being verbose, Dick,” Ronan deadpanned. </p><p>Gansey looked to Blue and Henry for confirmation. They both managed faint, guilty smiles.</p><p>Ah.</p><p>So he was.</p><p>He always did have a tendency to feel like he needed to explain himself.</p><p>Gansey released his steepled fingers when Blue passed him a mug of coffee next. He surveyed the room and found Noah pouring spoonfuls of sugar into his drink and Adam looking rather amused, likely either due to how Gansey was being verbose or due to the fact that Ronan had used the word ‘verbose’ -- or even due to both? Regardless, he raised his mug.</p><p>“In short--”</p><p>“Thank fucking Christ.”</p><p>“--my mother is having a winter gala up in D.C., for her benefactors and supporters,” he summarized, “and if you’re interested in attending, I’d be forever indebted to you for keeping me company.”</p><p>“You already are,” Ronan sneered.</p><p>“That I am, Lynch. That I am. And the rest of you, thoughts?” He paused. “Jane?”</p><p>Though he had asked her earlier that week, he wasn’t sure if she actually made up her mind. He was hopeful, of course, that she’d attend -- but Gansey was fearful that he’d come off just a bit too strong. Or commanding. Or demanding. </p><p>Blue snorted. </p><p>Already, he felt a little more at ease.</p><p>“You think I would miss out on the chance to devastate a whole bunch of old, misogynistic, patriarchy-sucking, heterosexual white men in political debates about feminism, diversity, democracy, and the wealth gap? Uh, <em> duh</em>, I’m coming.” </p><p>Henry guffawed in delight and the two of them clinked mugs in a toast of solidarity. “Marvelous agenda, Wendybird! What an evening that will be!”</p><p>Gansey knew that he should have been more concerned about what havoc she would leave in her wake, yet the thought of Blue Sargent obliterating Old Virginia Money with her political beliefs was… It was an exhilarating one, actually. He’d always played the role of the Golden Son that people expected Mrs. Campbell to have. Gansey would shake the hands of his mother’s colleagues and reservedly listen to them discuss the state of Wall Street or share their thoughts on local elections, never daring to rock the boat (yacht, likely), but Blue? </p><p>Good God, she’d give them hell. And he couldn’t wait to watch.</p><p>Gansey smiled at her, honest and earnest. <em> Thank you, </em>he meant.</p><p>She flapped her hand at him. <em> Pshaw. Don’t mention it, </em>he knew she meant.</p><p>Noah hummed. “I wanna come with, too. When did you say it was again?”</p><p>“Next weekend, the very first Saturday after finals week concludes,” Gansey sighed. He combed a hand through his hair. If it were up to him, he would not have chosen such an inconvenient date for an evening-long affair. As per usual, however, he had no say in the timing. “I understand if any time conflicts prevent--”</p><p>“Wicked. I’m in,” Noah grinned.</p><p>Henry nodded. “I simply must play co-counsel for Lady Sargent. Tell me, Mr. President -- it is a formal event, I assume?”</p><p>"Correct."</p><p>"I'm not wearing a fucking tie. Don't expect a fucking tie."</p><p>"Ooh, are we gonna wear Christmas-y colors? Is it a Christmas-y party, Gansey?"</p><p>"Oh, god," Blue groaned. "Don't tell me every old lady is going to be in pearls and a red dress. That reeks of Lifetime Christmas movie, with the blonde female lead and generic white dark-haired man who's actually Santa's hot son or something."</p><p>"You don't actually watch those, do you?" Adam asked. "You don't even celebrate Christmas."</p><p>"Blue!" Noah gasped, bolting to sit upright. "You don't celebrate <em>Christmas?"</em></p><p>"My family is pagan. We don't do Nativity scenes and stuff, y'know?" She shrugged. "We just celebrate the solstice. I'll still go if it's a Christmas party, though. Don't sweat it."</p><p>"And here I thought we could get rid of you for the night," Ronan lamented, flat-toned and uninvested.</p><p>"Shove off. Like you're not hyped to see me horrify some geezer."</p><p>Ronan's lip was wickedly curled. "I do that just fine on my own, maggot."</p><p>"Don't get competitive," Adam sighed. "If you get competitive, things will get ugly."</p><p>"A competition!" Henry echoed. "Who can turn the most heads at an overwhelmingly Red and White event, Ronan or Blue?"</p><p>"Blue."</p><p>"Ronan."</p><p>"Me, naturally."</p><p>"Fuck no, I can."</p><p>Gansey had been quiet for the exchange -- he was overwhelmed with how willing his friends were to attend the event. But then he realized that <em> his </em> perception of the Ganseys’ galas was leagues removed from theirs.</p><p>For Richard Campbell Gansey III, dinner parties and dances with rich socialites and high-ranking politicians were grueling ordeals. They were debilitating, taxing, <em> exigent. </em>Though he’d perfected his posture and his handshake and his polite nods and charming smiles, he dreaded every time that he needed to shift into that mode of existence for the sake of his family’s image. Gansey did not enjoy fine wine in crystal goblets with esteemed business executives nearly as much as he enjoyed drip coffee in souvenir mugs with his friends. </p><p>He preferred Blue’s electric contrariness to every deferential debutante introduced to him by hopeful wives of tech tycoons, just as he preferred Ronan’s impertinence to every diplomatic young man that chatted with him about rowing or something or other, just as he preferred Adam’s standoffishness to the immediate chumminess of strangers. Not to mention how Noah was boyish in a way that Gansey had never felt allowed to act, and how Gansey admired Henry’s way of not letting his family’s wealth define him.</p><p>It had been so long since he'd last shown up at one of his mother's functions that Gansey was worried -- not about not knowing how to carry himself, but about arriving and feeling more than comfortable. He did not want to belong in those environments, beneath chandeliers and among people who did not know the convenience of a dollar store... But he knew that a part of him always would. And was it wise to draw his friends into the congregation? The event would be at their house, and his invitation to such a place could border <em>flaunty, </em>and he--</p><p>He didn't want to lose them. He didn't want them to just see his family when they looked at him, the way his parents' guests always seemed to.</p><p>Gansey never complained about any of his social obligations to his family. He held his affliction deep inside of him and only ever spoke of it to Ronan when it threatened to eat him alive, which typically only happened when he had extreme trouble sleeping. That said, apart from Ronan, the others likely didn’t have a clue that he felt that so strongly about his mother’s parties.</p><p>...Gansey wondered if he should keep it that way.</p><p>He tuned back in.</p><p>“Wait. So do you think you'll come, Adam?” Blue prompted. Gansey was glad that she did, because she seemed to be the best fit for it. </p><p>Adam pursed his lips, looked into his coffee as if scrying the liquid for answers, then looked up at Blue, then at Gansey -- then either surprisingly or unsurprisingly, at Ronan. Briefly.</p><p>“I’d be happy to drive people to-and-from, of course,” Gansey hastily assured him. Them, rather. “My sister, Helen, has insisted on using her helicopter to--”</p><p>“Helicopter!” Blue scandalized, setting down her coffee. “You said that <em> way </em>too casually.”</p><p>“--pick me up, but I think I’d much rather drive,” he finished, casting Blue a look most apologetic. He <em> had </em>said that far too casually, hadn’t he? Gansey withered inside. In trying to convince Adam that transportation would be covered and that he had nothing to worry about, he’d ended up botching things with Helen’s helicopter.</p><p>Or so he’d thought.</p><p>“I’ll drive us,” Ronan said, sounding reluctant and troubled despite being a volunteer -- while looking right at Adam. Not at Gansey, but Adam.</p><p>Gansey blinked. Had Ronan just cornered Adam into attending, or was there something that he was missing? It seemed like the two were on better terms, at least. He expected Adam to protest or tell Ronan that he didn't speak for him, so when he didn't, Gansey stepped in: “Ronan--”</p><p>“I said what the damn I said.”</p><p>Adam took a hearty drink of his coffee, still silent.</p><p>“I can drive myself,” Noah added. “I’ll probably head to my folks’ place afterwards, so it’s best if I bring my car.”</p><p>“Likewise, I believe. It would be most efficient, especially if LynchCo plans on returning to Henrietta.”</p><p>“It’s nearly a three hour drive. You’re all certain?” Gansey frowned. It felt like such a bother. Three hours to Washington, two back to Henrietta, potentially even more for Noah and Henry to get to their own homes. How could he ask that of them?</p><p>Noah snorted. “O’course, Gansey. Why <em> wouldn’t </em> we be?”</p><p>“All that, just for my mother’s party,” he continued, still in slight -- no, great -- disbelief. “It’s not a <em> party</em>-party, you realize. We may be the only young folk there.”</p><p>“You're dumb as fuck,” Ronan snapped. “It’s not for your mom’s goddamn party and her old coots. It’s for you. You want us to come or not?"</p><hr/><p>They hunkered down to study and kept at it well into the evening, and even Adam stayed to do his own work. On everyone’s way out of the apartment, though, Gansey had them draw names for Secret Santa out of a little bowl. Adam left first to catch the bus (he insisted), Henry left second, and Noah was driving Blue home. </p><p>As they walked towards his Mustang, he grinned and nudged his elbow into her side.</p><p>“Well? Who’d’ja get?”</p><p>“It’s <em> Secret </em>Santa, Noah,” Blue snorted. “Emphasis on ‘Secret,’ if that wasn’t clear.”</p><p>Noah mock-frowned at her and brandished his own folded slip between two fingers. ‘Ronan,’ it read along the inside crease. “Well, I’ll have you know, I’m great at keeping secrets. And I’ll tell you my person if you tell me yours.”</p><p>She tipped her head at him. In the lights of the apartment complex parking lot, he could make out the line of her amused smirk. Blue had an awful pretty mouth, even in the dark, and it was a thought that stung less than it did when they first became friends. “Why would I do that, and why are you so interested in knowing?”</p><p>“Because we could help each other figure out what awesome gifts to get our people.”</p><p>“Mmm. Nice try, but I’ve got some pretty good thoughts. Maybe Henry will wanna swap intel with you.”</p><p>“I think,” Noah started, feeling like he was onto something, “that you got me. And that’s why you’re being so touchy about it.”</p><p>Blue hummed. “I didn’t, actually. But I still can’t just tell you.”</p><p>“Liar,” he said, throwing an arm around her shoulder as they walked.</p><p>“Whatever you say, champ,” she responded, slinging her arm around him, too. “Do you wanna stop for gelato before you take me home?”</p><p>“Blue! You read my mind!”</p><p>“Oh, trust me,” she snorted, “I most definitely didn’t.”</p><hr/><p>If anything, Noah had read <em> her </em>mind. How he guessed so quickly was beyond her, but as long as nobody else revealed who they had, she’d still be safe.</p><p>The possibilities, Blue knew, were almost limitless, and time was the only thing holding her back. She could knit Noah a sweater, or make him a tie for Gansey’s mom’s party, or compile a scrapbook with pictures of all the times they’ve hung out, or make a friendship bracelet, or customize a skateboard, or--</p><hr/><p>In Gansey’s best handwriting, the kind he used for official documents, Ronan’s paper said ‘Adam.’ Ronan got <em> Adam</em>, because of course he would. Of goddamn fucking course he did.</p><p>The worst part was that he already had ideas. Plural.</p><p>“By the by, Ronan,” Gansey started, drawing him out of his thoughts, “that was kind of you to say. Earlier, about... You know. Thank you.”</p><p>Ronan just flipped him off. Gansey just chuckled.</p><hr/><p>Henry mulled over his options as he drove back to Litchfield. Blue Sargent, Blue Sargent, Blue Sargent. He knew that she would not appreciate anything with an obscene price tag, and though that narrowed down his query a good amount, Henry had much thinking to do. </p><p>He looked forward to being immersed in his thoughts, as he always did.</p><hr/><p>Gansey felt like he and Henry had more than just a few similarities between them, but he also felt like those similarities were almost… Superficial. Rich parents, affinities for political forums, they both wore their watches upside-down with the face against their wrists (for more practical reasons that most realized). To know Henry -- the real Henry -- there was much more that he needed to learn. The pressure of gift-giving was a bit intimidating, but Gansey’s excitement about finally having a group of friends to do a gift exchange overpowered his concerns of getting it wrong.</p><p>Mostly.</p><hr/><p>On the bus ride back to his apartment, his slip of paper burned a hole in the pocket of his jeans. Adam had briefly considered asking if Blue wanted to switch with him, but that would have counted as backing down, giving up, and looking for an easy way out.</p><p>‘Gansey,’ the paper read.</p><p>What did you get someone who had all the money in the world? What did you get someone who could satisfy any wanting they had in a few heartbeats? And what did you get them when you had the exact opposite at your disposal?</p><p>Adam closed his eyes. It didn’t matter, not just yet. He didn't need to think about finding a good gift for Gansey, or about whether or not his only suit was still safe in its dust bag in his closet, or about what all of Ronan's glances meant.</p><p>Finals came first. School always needed to come first.</p><hr/><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> Jane </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> gansey </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> Would it be in poor taste to ask if Adam would like a suit </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em>yes it would so do not that </em>
</p><p>
  <em>absolutely do not</em>
</p><p>
  <em> he has one i’m pretty sure but still you should Not </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> Ah. I thought so </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But your advice means everything to me, so thank you. </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em>lmao ok dork much </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> Just being honest. </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> question for you now </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> Oh?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Fire away. </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> what would be more controversial, me showing up in a suit or me showing up in a dress with my body hair on display </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> Either would be fantastically tendentious </em>
</p><p>
  <em> May I suggest that you wear your ‘Eat the Rich’ pin from your backpack, too?  </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> that. is. brilliant.</em>
</p><hr/><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em>so</em>
</p><p>
  <em>you can stay at the barns if you need to</em>
</p><p>
  <em>but dont fucking reply cause im not gonna read shit.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>oof, a day late! so sorry. i had this done last night but i wanted to give it another read over in the morning :') i think i'll still be posting 34 sometime tomorrow, though!</p><p>thank you guys for continuing to read. i think i've sooorta been doubting myself + this project because i'm worried about it lacking direction / about it not being refined enough, but i'm comforted by how much fun i have whenever i just let myself write, hehe. so, as always, thank you guys for keeping up with me!!!! i can't tell you how much it means to me to actually have people look forward to me getting overemotional about the gangsey!</p><p>also!!! thank you!!!! we have hit 200 kudos and i'm so so so honored :')))</p><p>also also. i was thinking about making noah / henry's playlists on spotify For Funsies. maybe i'll make them collaborative and you guys can add songs? :0 or you can comment any songs you think they would listen to or send to each other down below!</p><p>(pynch incoming, i promise!)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. half truths and lies they're drinking like wine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>the winter gala a la gansey pt i</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> good morning gang </em>
</p><p>
  <em> we just picked up adam so we are now headed to the barns </em>
</p><p>
  <em> we’ll be getting ready there so we’ll let you guys know when we’re en route to DC! </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> ETD and ETA? </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> probably one, absolutely no later than two, so we can get to washington around five tonight </em>
</p><p>
  <em> an hour should be enough for our secret santa swap, right? </em>
</p><p>[ Henry ]</p><p>
  <em> Certainly! </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> hooyah!! </em>
</p><p>[ Henry ]</p><p>
  <em> Hooyah? </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> yeah yknow, hooyah :) </em>
</p><p>[ Henry ]</p><p>
  <em> But of course, hooyah. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Gansey Boy, how is the party preparation coming along at House Gansey? </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> It is </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Well. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It is coming along </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> oof </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> oof. </em>
</p><p>[ Henry ]</p><p>
  <em> Ah, I must. Apologies. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Oof. </em>
</p><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em> Oof. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Blue asked me to type that. </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> To put it simply </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I eagerly anticipate your arrivals. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> (Thank you all, again, for coming. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.) </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> &lt;3 aw gansey &lt;3 </em>
</p><hr/><p>Everything had been going to plan, much to Adam’s surprise. Things usually didn’t work out so well for so long -- not for him. Never for him. And yet? Finals week had gone smoothly and Adam had been confident for each of his tests, he’d managed to get the weekend off of work for Gansey’s party, his suit still fit him alright, he got ten hours of sleep, they were on time and headed to Henrietta--</p><p>...Right.</p><p>Henrietta.</p><p>Adam hadn’t been to the Barns since Thanksgiving weekend, which meant that he hadn’t spoken to his father since then either. </p><p>He hoped it stayed that way for a while, but Adam was past hope; he knew that, in eight days, he’d have to face his father. Knowing that it would be in front of a judge was only minutely comforting.</p><p>Adam Parrish had taken enough literature classes to know that there was something incredibly <em> ironic </em> about how, because he’d lost his hearing to Robert Parrish, the court had ordered a different kind of hearing to settle the record. He hadn’t told Blue about the date, though. Or Ronan, or Gansey, or Noah, or Henry. </p><p>And he didn’t think that he would.</p><hr/><p>“Dick,” his mother entreated from the center of the landing parlor. The high-arching windows were draped with silk and velvet, all of the desks and tables and other fixtures were gilded, the floor was marble with immaculate shine -- and at the center of it all, in the eye of the hurricane of assistants and caterers bustling around the room, Mrs. Richard Gansey II orchestrated the storm.</p><p>The anxiety had set in when he arrived in Washington the night before. Then it burgeoned overnight. Then, with every flash of pearl and ivory, it heightened tenfold. With every mention of <em> ‘Dick,’ </em> it multiplied. With every passing second, he fretted more and more about what would become of their evening. But it was such a petty thing to be bothered by, wasn’t it? He’d shake hands and ask about wives and daughters and businesses, sip champagne and take photos with his family. That was it. That was <em> it. </em></p><p>Gansey stole a glance at his phone, hoping that a text would be waiting for him on the screen. When he found nothing, he pocketed the device, righted his posture, and approached his mother with long strides. Not a hair on his head was out of place, not a fiber of lint clung to his pre-gala blazer. His glasses were safely tucked inside their case in his bathroom, and with the help of his contacts, he perfected the image of a young man with the world spinning on the tip of his pinky.</p><p>“How may I support?” He asked Mrs. Gansey, coming to stand at her side. His mother touched a manicured, perfectly self-effacing, hand to his cheek.</p><p>“I’m more than certain that Helen is managing the catering team well enough on her own, but I would love for you to check on her progress.” Mrs. Gansey smoothed her hand over a nonexistent crease on his shoulder. “Thank you, dear. Ever golden, you are.”</p><p>Gansey didn’t bother responding, for she’d already proceeded to delegate a new task to someone else. He knew, of course, that Helen wouldn’t need him to hover, and would likely be more affronted by his presence than anything else. Dick Gansey III shone best when there were people watching him model his crown, after all.</p><p>(He ached for his phone to buzz in his pocket.)</p><hr/><p>“I’ll be down in a second -- I’m going to need help with a tie, though,” Blue called from upstairs. Ronan knew what it meant about her outfit for the evening, and while he’d personally rather wear pearls than a tie (not that anybody could force him to do either against his will), he could respect what she was planning. </p><p>“Adam’s department,” Ronan called back. He’d been lounging on the couch, not exactly worried about his pressed slacks and dress shirt getting wrinkled. If they did? Oh-fucking-well, boo-fucking-hoo. Fuck Washington. He wasn’t Declan.</p><p>“What’s my department?”</p><p>Ronan glanced over as Adam rounded a corner; he spoke while in the middle of buttoning up his sportcoat. His suit was a crisply fitted three-piece, so dark gray that it was almost black, and his tie was a rich green against a starched white shirt and--</p><p>Oh. Fuck.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>Shit.</p><p>Goddamn.</p><p>
  <em> Fuck.  </em>
</p><p>Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck--</p><p>“Ties,” Ronan spat in resentment. He coolly removed his gaze from the sharp, defined angles of Adam’s cheekbones and shoulders, back to the water damage stains on the ceiling. But the image of Adam had already been burned into his brain. “Maggot.”</p><p>“Ah. Blue?”</p><p>“Comin’!”</p><p>She stomped down the stairs, a pair of dark wedge heels in one of her hands and a matching tie in the other. She wore a light brown suit with a whole bunch of green leaf-shaped things dangling from the hems of her jacket, her dress shirt was a similar shade of green -- and really, it was an outfit that would have made anyone else look like a clown. On Blue, it just looked normal.</p><p>“Well?” She grinned, holding out her arms and spinning. “All thrifted, customized, <em> and </em>tailored by yours truly. I was a little short on time, but I think I made do. What do we think?”</p><p>Ronan raised an eyebrow. “I think you look like a tiny fucking tree.”</p><p>“Well, good, because I was going for a tree look. Adam, thoughts?”</p><p>He tipped her head at her and held his hand out for her tie. “Loud,” he said. “You managed to make a suit unconventional.” Blue beamed at him.</p><p>“Perfect.”</p><hr/><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> …..so uh </em>
</p><p>
  <em> are you guys stuck in traffic too </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> noah are you texting and driving??? </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> i wouldn’t call it driving i think </em>
</p><p>[ Henry ]</p><p>
  <em> Alas, I have run into quite a bit of snow myself </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> Christ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Are you all alright? </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> it’s not too bad, just a little inconvenient </em>
</p><p>
  <em> but i don’t think we’ll make it to washington before it starts :/ </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> whatever  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> as ive been saying </em>
</p><p>
  <em> fuck washington </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> No worries at all.  Arrive safely and we’ll call it even. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’ll have space in the garage made for your vehicles, so you needn’t bother with valet </em>
</p><hr/><p>It was six thirty when Henry showed up and a little after seven when Noah did. Noah arrived with most of the crowd but he still managed to find Henry, and then together, they ran into Gansey.</p><p>The three of them only had a couple of minutes to touch base before Gansey was swept away by someone who clapped his shoulder and insisted on introducing him to their graying colleagues. It was fine, of course! Noah knew that Gansey would be busy playing host and Henry said that it had been happening as soon as the clock struck seven. Above all else, he was just glad that he had someone (someone his age, at that!) to keep him company.</p><p>Henry plucked two flutes of champagne from a server’s tray as they passed and extended one to Noah. “We may as well partake, no?” </p><p>“I’d say so,” he grinned back, accepting the glass. They edged towards a wall, out of the way of the attendees swirling around the room and catching up with dialogue openers like wives and legislation and bills and controversial court cases. “Have you been talking to people? Before I showed up?”</p><p>“If you are asking if you are keeping me from mingling, you are not, I assure you.” Henry raised his glass. “Believe it or not, I am not high-ranking on the list of people that these masses want to acknowledge.”</p><p>Noah frowned. “Like tonight, or in general?”</p><p>“Yes,” Henry replied, sounding humored. But Noah didn’t think it was all that funny.</p><p>“I see you,” he said, “if that helps. I started looking for you as soon as I got here.”</p><p>“Is that so?”</p><p>“It’s totally so,” he nodded, letting his frown curl into something warmer.</p><hr/><p>It was just past eight when the BMW finally got through the streets, past the valets, and into the garage on the west wing of the property. When they stood in front of the main entrance of the Gansey estate, Blue found herself at once offended by just how much money his family had. All of the shiny, unused cars lined up in their garage had been one thing. The grand, expansive circle driveway with the fountain and topiaries and rose bushes had been another. Their actual home building -- <em> mansion </em>-- had been an entirely other thing on its own.</p><p>“Jesus fucking shit,” she exhaled, knowing that she sounded awfully like Ronan. Blue tucked her hair behind one of her ears and adjusted the clips pinning it in place. She hadn’t bothered to do anything different with it beyond securing one side against her scalp. “I knew they were rich, but I didn’t know it was this … <em> Obscene</em>.”</p><p>“This was a bad idea,” Adam observed. He felt the same way he did, she just knew it. Blue almost didn’t want to go inside, just on principle of believing that nobody needed that much money to be comfortable.</p><p>“No shit,” Ronan grumbled. “But fuck if you two are pussying out on me now.”  As he crossed into the castle walls, with them beside him and the top buttons of his shirt undone in a display of rebelliousness not too unlike her own, Ronan threw one hand up toward the sparkling chandelier above them. More specifically: he raised one lone finger. A true fuck all if she’d ever seen one.</p><p>“<em>Fuck </em>Washington,” Ronan announced, easily gaining the attention of everyone in earshot. Heads turned: shiny foreheads, curled and pinned updos, comb overs crispy and stiff with product. Blue snorted and grinned behind her hand, and when she peeked over at Adam, she found him trying not to smile, too. A brief hush followed Ronan’s greeting, but after the uneasy murmuring accompanied by the unceasing violin and tinkling Christmas-y sounding bells, conversations resumed.</p><p>“We literally just got here,” Adam told Ronan, too uninvested to be chastising. “We haven’t even seen Gansey.”</p><p>“Why do you think I made a scene?”</p><p>“Because you enjoy making scenes?” Adam checked his watch and took point on leading them further inside. Blue figured he didn’t want to stay in front of the entrance any longer, which was understandable.</p><p>“No. Because word travels fast, fucker.”</p><p>“We probably have better odds of finding Henry and Noah in this crowd,” Blue pointed out. “The people here are--”</p><p>“White as fuck,” Ronan sneered. “Old as fuck.”</p><p>“Were you expecting anything different?” Adam drily retorted. </p><p>“True point,” Blue sighed. She fixed the lapels of her jacket and made sure that her ‘EAT THE RICH’ and ‘ACAB’ and ‘BLM’ pins were all still boldly displayed at her shoulder, right above her heart. Blue knew that the colors she wore clashed with the tone of the event and that she stuck out against the black suits and wine red evening dresses -- and she relished in it. When she looked up and around the room, she caught a couple of heads sharply turning to stop looking in their direction. </p><p>The extra attention only made her hold her head higher, naturally.</p><hr/><p>When they finally found one another, it was because Blue and Ronan were easy to spot in the crowd, in that they had both bent the dress code to suit their personalities best. Adam, on the other hand, had cleaned up so spiffily that Henry knew he could have a place in Gansey’s world of socialites if he so chose to pursue one. The five of them talked amongst themselves in one of the massive parlor rooms, removed from the grey toupees and perfect coifs of bottle blonde.</p><p>“Has anyone else noticed,” Blue started, her weight shifted onto one leg in a manner most criticizing, “the gross ratio of men to women here? I mean, they <em> are </em>here to support a woman running for congress, aren’t they?”</p><p>“We’ve noticed,” Adam assured her, though his eyes were roaming the room. A grand mirror hung above the fireplace, too high for it to be of use to Blue. A set of paintings and portraits, all in the same style of frame, were affixed to the walls in minimalist elegance. Of course, there was yet another antique chandelier, too. “We’ve noticed a lot of things.”</p><p>Henry observed the crease in his brow. He knew what Adam meant.</p><p>“And I have noticed,” Henry continued, “that you have yet to strike up any conversations with the masses, Lady Sargent. Your thoughts?"</p><p>“That they can enjoy their abominably expensive fine wine before I start dancing,” Blue snorted. “Call it a grace period.”</p><p>“It’s one they’ll regret not appreciating more, I’m certain,” someone else said, removed from the circle. All eyes turned. The voice had not been Noah’s or Ronan’s or Adam’s, and if Henry didn’t see him approaching, he would not have believed that it was Gansey’s, either. “You all had no trouble finding your way, I trust?”</p><p>From the corner of his eye, he noticed Blue and Adam exchange glances.</p><p>“I got here alright,” Noah cheerily responded, taking a step back to welcome Gansey into the circle. “How’s hosting been going?”</p><p>Gansey silently sighed and reached up to run a hand through his hair, only to stop himself short of doing so. Instead, he loosened his tie -- a red most regal, somehow more red than all of the other red ties in the room. And there were plenty of other red ties in the building. “I am expected to be gregarious; it is most egregious.”</p><p>Henry snorted. He was the only one that did.</p><p>Blue took a sip of her champagne and Gansey’s eyes had lingered a second longer on her than on the others. He cleared his throat. “I--”</p><p>“Dick!”</p><p>A young woman strode towards them, dressed in the same red silk as Gansey’s tie, dripping in affluence and diamond. Gansey turned and met her halfway, and Henry assumed it was for the sake of keeping her from advancing any closer. “Dick,” she hissed, “you can’t just walk off when Mother needs us to help her greet ev--”</p><p>She looked past his shoulder, head cocked and scarlet lips pursed.</p><p>“These are your friends?”</p><p>“These are my friends,” he echoed. With his fingers glued together like a doll’s, he gestured to each of them and shared their names. Noah waved, Henry raised two fingers in salute, Blue raised her chin, Adam lowered his, Ronan scowled. Gansey nodded to his sister. “And this is my older sister, Helen.”</p><p>“A pleasure,” she said, touching her hand to her sternum in perfect hostess fashion. Then she reached for Gansey’s arm. “I apologize for needing to steal away my brother, but please, make yourselves comfortable. The help is wearing gold, if you need anything in particular.”</p><p>“The <em> ‘help’? </em>” Blue echoed, eyebrows raised.</p><p>Helen paused. “The help,” she repeated. “The people we’ve hired to serve during the event, they’re in gold.”</p><p>Henry noticed how Gansey had paled, and he noticed how Blue tensed, and he noticed how Noah looked down into his glass, and he noticed how Adam joined Ronan in looking at the things on the wall.</p><p>Blue gave Gansey a withering look.</p><p>Gansey gave Blue a pleading one.</p><p>Without saying anything else, Blue turned away and let Helen drag Gansey out of the parlor.</p><p>...Noah was the one to break the silence. </p><p>“He’s a little different here, isn’t he?”</p><p>“I should have expected it,” Blue scoffed. “Of course he is.”</p><p>“What did I say?” Ronan laughed, sharply and disparagingly. “Fuck Washington.”</p><p>Blue raised her glass and sipped it in agreement. “Henry,” she said, “grace period over.”</p><hr/><p>“Your friends seem nice,” Helen said beneath her breath, quiet enough that prying ears wouldn’t catch it, loud enough that Gansey would hear her perfectly well. She meant the opposite, he knew. “Blue, was it? She wore a suit. How avante garde of her.”</p><p>Blue’s expression -- and her ensemble for the evening -- remained at the forefront of his brain. He hardly had the bandwidth to smile at the faces nodding at him and his sister walking through the estate as a matching set.</p><p>“They are nice,” Gansey said, “when they are not being offended.”</p><p>“I couldn’t have said anything offensive, I was in their company for two minutes.”</p><p>“Helen, you referred to your catering team as ‘the help.’”</p><p>“Is that not what they are doing?” She countered. “They <em> are </em> helping tonight.”</p><p>He exhaled slowly.</p><p>“Don’t sigh,” Helen scolded, “it’ll give people the wrong idea.”</p><hr/><p>While Noah, Henry, and Blue circled the main foyer for a conversation to hijack, Adam said something about wanting to get some air. Ronan went with him, of course, because being outside in the cold and snow was much fucking better than being around old coot-scented cologne.</p><p>They found their way into the gardens easily enough.</p><p>“I think,” Adam started, eyes turned skyward, “that when Gansey invited us, we were expecting <em> Gansey </em>to actually be with us.”</p><p>“As opposed to?”</p><p>“Dick.”</p><p>Ronan cackled.</p><p>“Gansey’s never in Washington.”</p><p>“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”</p><p>“One event per year, back in high school. I fucking hate Washington.”</p><p>“Well,” Adam mused, hands in his pockets as he started to walk the path between perfectly trimmed hedges. “I don’t think I blame you.”</p><p>When Ronan didn’t follow, he turned around. The line of his cheek was backlighted by garden lights and the moon.</p><p>“What, you’re not coming?”</p><p>“Where are you even fucking going?”</p><p>Adam shrugged. “Anywhere that’s not in there.”</p><hr/><p>Blue delicately rolled the stem of her champagne flute between her fingers. “I’d just love to hear, then,” she drawled, emphasizing her Henrietta accent to be warm and disarming, “what your thoughts are on defunding and dissolving police forces.”</p><p>Henry and Noah flanked either side of her as the two men in front of her, both wearing pinstripe and Rolexes, began to chortle. “<em>Dissolving the police,”</em> one of them repeated. “Lord, what a concept.”</p><p>“The youth love the radical,” the other man observed, swirling red wine. His watch glinted. “The radical, however, is oft far too insensible to be seen through.”</p><p>“I’ve been told that I’m rather sensible,” Blue countered, smiling thinly.</p><p>“Well, if you ask any one of us, a tie is hardly ever a sensible decision for a young lady such as yourself.” One of the men winked. She wanted to vomit on his shiny ass Oxfords. “Those are a men’s accessory. Traditionally speaking.” </p><p>Blue gritted her teeth. “Traditionally speaking,” she challenged.</p><p>“What exactly is it that you are implying?” Henry jumped in, head tilted. “That clothes are all gendered upon manufacturing?”</p><p>Noah laughed, using his boyishness in a very pointed, very deliberate way. “Man, that’s wild. Imagine thinking a girl can’t wear a tie.”</p><p>“An antiquated belief, certainly,” Henry nodded. Blue couldn’t keep herself from smirking. “How quickly the times change. Do you miss the good old days, my good men? Kennedy, housewives, segregation--”</p><p>“Polio,” Noah chimed in.</p><p>“Ah! Polio, of course.”</p><p>“Gentlemen, please,” Blue entreated her friends. “Traditions are traditions. I may as well take my leave, since women also shouldn’t be involved in politics. At this rate, I guess Mrs. Gansey should just quit now.”</p><p>Henry tutted. “It’d be a shame if she heard that her guests think so little of women.”</p><p>That -- that had been the last straw. The men politely excused themselves to acquire more wine, find their wives, something or other. Blue didn’t quite catch what they’d said with how hastily they exited the conversation, let alone with how hard she was trying to not laugh with Noah stifling his snickering beside her. The three of them leaned into one another, creating their own little knit, removed from the rest of the crowd.</p><p>“Polio!” She whispered to Noah, squeezing his arm. “That was hilarious.”</p><p>“Aw, shucks. But Henry endcapped that one, for sure,” Noah grinned.</p><p>Henry sealed his lips to keep from laughing, too. “Right, but are we going to ignore that one of those fogies outright <em> winked </em>at you, Blue?”</p><p>“Eh, fuck ‘em,” she sneered. “They paid for it already. Come on, we’re on round four.”</p><hr/><p>Helen extracted him from yet another interaction, no twenty to thirty minutes later. She apologized to the ex-congressman he was conversing with and led him away, but as soon as they were out of sight, her light touch on his arm turned into a grab.</p><p>“Your girlfriend,” she hissed, “is upsetting our guests.”</p><p>Gansey sputtered. “My--I’m sorry, I beg your pardon?”</p><p>“As you should. I’m referring to <em> Blue</em>. And two others, the pale one and the Asian one. People are talking and it’s only a matter of time before they ask mom about who they are.”</p><p>“Nice, Helen,” he drawled. “You can remember all of the names of these nearly indistinguishable white men, but not those of my friends.”</p><p>Helen folded her arms. “Have you forgotten that the whole point of tonight is to generate support for Mother’s campaign? Of course I know names. I’ve studied them. Now stay on topic, Dick.”</p><p>He pursed his lips, knowing that she was right -- and knowing exactly what Blue was out there talking about. Voters rights, worker’s rights, women’s rights; education accessibility and equality versus equity and Planned Parenthood funding. All things that absolutely deserved the dialogue, but also all things that the conservative crowd would be shocked to discuss at such an event. </p><p>Blue Sargent, devastating in her suit and tie, was an utter wildcard.</p><p>...Gansey wished that he still felt as enthusiastic about the strife her presence generated, but with the urgency in Helen’s voice, he couldn’t help but begin to feel the anxiety swell again. Had he messed up? Had he botched his mother’s campaign before it even properly began? Jesus Christ -- should he not have invited Blue? It was a bit of a disgusting thought: intentionally excluding her from this part of his life because of who she was. That wasn’t who he wanted to be. That wasn’t what he wanted to do.</p><p>His throat was tight. He felt panic rise in his chest; he heard a buzzing grow in his ear.</p><p>Helen was right -- but if he wanted to remedy the situation for his mother, before it dramatically worsened, what would he end up doing to his relationship with Blue?</p><p>He cleared his throat.</p><p>“First and foremost, she is not my girlfriend. Secondly, she wouldn’t take too kindly to you telling me this, rather than confronting her directly.”</p><p>Helen made an incensed expression without creasing her skin. Impossible to some, second nature to a Gansey. “You invited her, did you not?”</p><p>“That doesn’t necessarily make me her keeper.”</p><p>“Well, I don’t know her. You do.”</p><p>“Oh, it’s a shame that you don’t. She’s incredible, really, so you’re missing out.”</p><p>“<em>Enough </em>repartee, Dick,” Helen pleaded. “Don’t you care about the campaign? You know this will reflect badly on Mother.”</p><p>Gansey’s expression soured. “Blue is not affiliated with our mother.”</p><p>“Use your head. She isn’t, but she <em> is </em> affiliated with you.”</p><p>The buzzing grew louder. His tie seemed to shrink around his neck.</p><p>“What are you asking me to do, exactly, Helen?”</p><p>“Request that she tempers her radicalism.”</p><p>“You want me to tell her to censor herself.”</p><p>“Not tell,” Helen huffed, “just ask. She’ll listen, if she’s your friend.”</p><p>Gansey couldn’t believe that his jaw had yet to swing free from his skull, given how slack it felt.</p><p>“Mother specifically asked me if I would like to invite my friends,” he protested, “and I did, and they are here, and they are to be treated just the same as our other guests. Would you censor any of the rich white men here?”</p><p>“Stop calling it censorship. Also, Ronan came close. Did you hear what he said when he arrived?”</p><p>“<em>Helen</em>.”</p><p>“Oh, please. As though any of them will be voting for her anyway,” Helen scoffed. “Are you honestly choosing to defend her over your mother and her dream career<em>?” </em></p><p>“Why does there need to be a choice?”</p><p>“How much clearer do I need to make myself?” Helen held her hands out in exasperation. “If she, a friend of yours, upsets the benefactors, they’ll confuse Mother’s principles for hers. And then what? The voters think Cordelia Campbell Gansey is in favor of--of defunding the police! She’d never get the seat!”</p><p>His smile was waning.</p><p>“And would defunding the police be such a terrible thing?”</p><p>“This is not about you and your girlfriend, crush, whoever she is to you. Don’t be selfish.”</p><p>Is that what was happening? Was he being selfish? Gansey scrubbed a hand down his face and stepped back from his sister. He needed -- air, water -- he needed a break --</p><p>“Good evening, Helen,” he said, shaking his head and turning to leave.</p><p>“Dick,” she barked. Gansey paused, though he didn’t glance back at her.</p><p>“No,” Helen sneered, brushing past him. “I was calling you a dick.”</p><p>He needed --</p><p>He needed to find Blue.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this chapter was So Fun 2 Write &gt;:) the next one will continue w the gansey mansion shenanigans for sure!!!</p><p>thank you guys for reading and commenting! &lt;3 it makes my day every time i hear from any of you and i'm so, so grateful for all of your time and interest!!! so much love, you absolute rockstars</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0035"><h2>35. do you want me yet?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>pynch &amp; bluesey drama/feelings sandwiching some wholesome little czeng</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ronan scuffed the bottom of his boot -- yeah, he was wearing fucking boots -- along the cobblestone path winding through the garden. There wasn’t much to look at on account of the snow, but it didn’t matter. Ronan preferred the overgrown kind of nature, characteristic of the Barns, over the controlled kind, characteristic of the Gansey estate. </p><p>The groundskeeper’s rose bushes were worlds removed from Aurora Lynch’s.</p><p>He looked over at Adam, but Adam hadn’t been looking at him. They were walking in the cold, hands stuffed in pockets and overcoats regrettably left inside, mostly in silence. There just hadn’t been anything to talk about -- at least, not until Adam decidedly banished the quiet.</p><p>“So if you hate Washington, why are you here?”</p><p>Easy. Ronan had already made this clear, the night Gansey invited them to go.</p><p>“Gansey asked me to be.”</p><p>“Is he your reason for most of the things you do?” Adam sounded unimpressed, maybe even critical -- like he was implying the same shit Kavinsky outright accused him off.</p><p>...Ronan peeled his eyes off of Adam’s poorly-lit, but no less impressive, profile. He scowled at a statue as they stepped past it. “And the fuck about it if he is?”</p><p>Adam didn’t respond.</p><p>“You’re implying something,” Ronan spat, “and I don’t like it.”</p><p>“I guess I just think it’s strange,” he eventually said, “to do things you hate for someone else’s sake.”</p><p>He heard Adam inhale and exhale, slow as hell, and Ronan could guess what he was thinking: <em> why was Gansey worth it? </em>But Ronan never had to ask himself that question before, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. </p><p>“Shit you do for friends. That’s it.”</p><p>“And is Gansey your friend, or is Dick?”</p><p>“Christ, Parrish. He’s still fuckin’ Gansey, even if he’s in there playing Dickhead Dress-Up,” Ronan scoffed. </p><p>“You’re getting offended, even though you’re the one who implied that there was a difference in the first place.”</p><p>...Adam wasn’t wrong there.</p><p>“Sure,” Ronan relented, “but it’s not like he loves kissing wrinkly white ass, anyway. Do you actually think he <em> wants </em> to be here? Out of all of us, he’s probably having the worst time.”</p><p>Adam’s smile was bitter. “For some reason, I’m not too sure about that.”</p><p>“Fuck that, I am.”</p><p>Ronan risked turning his head. </p><p>Turned out that Adam had done the same.</p><p>Upon making eye contact, they both stopped walking, and Ronan wondered if the two of them would ever have a conversation that wasn’t supercharged with bullshit tension. It was <em> hard </em>to talk to Adam, and even though he knew that part of it was his own fault, Ronan also felt like he knew enough about Adam to know that he was…</p><p>Difficult. Maybe just as difficult as he was himself.</p><p>(But also -- easy, if only because it had been stupid easy to come up with his Secret Santa present.)</p><p>“Then Gansey’s just fine with it?” Adam asked, head tilted. “Fine with asking you to come to a place that he knows you don’t like?”</p><p>“He can’t force me to do shit, if that’s what you’re suggesting. You were there when we talked, so the fuck is your damage?”</p><p>
  <em> Shit. </em>
</p><p>He regretted the word as soon as he used it. Adam wasn’t damaged -- Ronan didn’t think that -- he considered correcting himself -- but god fuck damn, it was too late to take it back. He gritted his teeth.</p><p>“My <em> damage</em>,” Adam said, sounding dangerously close to sneering, “is that I don’t get why we’re here if you don’t actually want to be here.”</p><p>Ronan blinked.</p><p>“You,” he repeated, “said <em> we.” </em></p><p>“Did I?”</p><p>“Goddamn, Parrish. Why the fuck are <em> you </em>here?”</p><p>Adam looked to the sprawling Gansey estate, a castle in the capital. A weighty silence fell over them like a blanket of sudden snowfall, dropping all at once. Even though Ronan wasn’t wearing a tie, it still felt like something was squeezing his throat.</p><p>“Because,” Adam said, taking his hands out of his pocket and fixing his cufflinks, “I owe you.”</p><p>He -- owed -- him.</p><p>Jesus fucking goddamn fuck shit Adam Parrish god shit bastard fucking fuckhead bullshit fine ass suit shitfuckdamn awful asshole beautiful stupid stupid stupid <em> stupid</em>.</p><hr/><p>“Pardon me,” someone said from behind her. “Jane?”</p><p>The second part gave away who that ‘someone’ was pretty easily.</p><p>Blue hadn’t been expecting to see much of Gansey after the way their first encounter in happened, because for the rest of the evening, she’d only caught fleeting glances of him. Shaking hands, clapping shoulders, laughing brightly -- ‘a prince among men,’ Henry had called him, when they saw him sweep through the room. Blue agreed. If he somehow had even more money, people would be bowing and curtsying and offering their daughters whenever he joined their conversations. </p><p>Unlike Henry’s observation, though, her statement wasn’t a compliment.</p><p>Blue looked between Henry (he nodded) and Noah (he shrugged) before turning around. </p><p>“Me, Jane?” Blue said, pointing to herself. Then she pointed at some other woman who looked like her name could be Jane, pearls and diamond earrings and all. “Or that Jane?”</p><p>(It wasn’t that she was upset with him for wanting her to play nice with his sister -- it was that <em> and </em> a couple of other things. Like his fake voice and his plastic ass smile, because she’d never seen him like <em> that </em>before. And also, she had an issue with the fur rugs in their parlor.)</p><p>Gansey looked hurt. She tried not to feel bad.</p><p>“You, of course,” he said, and in his eyes, there was a flicker of Earnest Gansey -- the one she knew, the one she liked. “Might I have a minute?”</p><p>“That depends. Do you have one?”</p><p>Behind her, Noah sucked in a sharp breath, and in front of her, Gansey almost looked ready to slump his shoulders. Given the setting and circumstances, Blue knew that that was a big deal.</p><p>“Blue,” he said, opting for her real name.</p><p>She sighed.</p><p>Henry wordlessly took her champagne flute for her. When she stepped forward, Gansey offered her his arm, ever the pinnacle of social propriety, though Blue sometimes fancied herself as anything but. She shook her head.</p><p>“Nuh-uh,” she said, and she stuck out her own elbow. Unlike the other young women at the event (of which there were so few!), <em> she </em> wasn’t keen on being seen hanging off the arm of Richard Campbell Gansey III like -- like some kind of an accessory. “It’s this or not at all.”</p><p>Gansey smiled and looped his arm through the crook of her own.</p><p>“Fair enough. The garden is that way.”</p><hr/><p>As the two slipped through the crowd, Henry set Blue’s empty glass on a server’s passing tray. He made a point of thanking the woman, because he knew Blue would have -- and also because it was only proper.</p><p>“Do you think they’ll be alright?” Noah frowned. “Gansey seems stressed and Blue seems -- I don’t know. Also stressed? I don’t want to say angry.”</p><p>“Vexed, perhaps,” Henry sighed. “Peeved?”</p><p>“Peeved,” Noah nodded. “I think we might just need to have our gift exchange real soon.”</p><p>It was smart: use the exchange as a means of expelling the tension. Henry nodded towards the foyer.</p><p>“Onwards to coat check, then?” </p><p>Noah gestured for Henry to lead, then they wove through the chortling masses of Italian suits.</p><p>A room had been set aside for the overcoats of the guests, and alongside their jackets, Henry and Noah had entrusted the staff with their Secret Santa presents. Ronan, Blue, and Adam had done the same when they arrived, and though it took some explaining and some matching-up of the names written on the gift labels, Henry and Noah were eventually permitted to take them. </p><p>Noah inspected the packages in his arms. “I’ve got one for Ronan, one for Adam, and one for -- ooh, me. Heh, nice. I think this is Blue’s handwriting.” </p><p>“Well, that just can’t be right,” Henry frowned, looking at the three parcels in his own possession. “I also have three. Gansey hadn’t deposited his gift alongside ours, had he?”</p><p>“Oh! Oh, no, yeah -- that’s--” Noah fumbled with his cargo and tried to free one hand enough to point. He gestured to the smallest -- and flattest -- of the presents in Henry’s arms. “That one’s yours, from me. It’s not part of the exchange, though! I didn’t draw your name, I just--”</p><p>When Henry looked up, Noah was just a touch flushed, but he was also grinning.</p><p>“I thought of you, that’s all.”</p><hr/><p>“You said <em> we</em>.”</p><p>“Did I?”</p><p>“Goddamn, Parrish. Why the fuck are <em> you </em>here?”</p><p>Adam pursed his lips. He asked himself that all the time, especially whenever he was with Ronan and Gansey and Blue and Henry and Noah. He asked himself that when he showed up at their apartment after Kavinsky visited the garage, and he asked himself that when he went to the substance party with Ronan -- he asked himself that when he went with the group to the Barns, he asked himself that whenever he was in the BMW--</p><p>Adam always seemed to be asking himself <em> why, </em>and though the answer was there, he didn’t feel ready to accept it.</p><p>The horrible alternative was somehow easier.</p><p>“Because I owe you.”</p><p>His cheeks burned with the shame of the three words.</p><p>Despite this, Ronan laughed, and because Adam wasn’t interested in being ridiculed, he walked off. </p><p>Ronan followed anyway.</p><p>“Hold the fuck up,” he said, sounding closer. “You said you fucking <em> what?” </em></p><p>“I’m not saying it again, Lynch.”</p><p>“You think you owe me,” Ronan said for him, sounding incredulous for some reason. Adam didn’t get that either -- what was so hard to understand? What more did Ronan want him to admit? “What the fuck, Parrish?”</p><p>He picked up his pace, but Ronan had done the same -- and, with a few long strides, he was suddenly in front of Adam, blocking his path. Adam damned his height with a furrowed brow. “Does this really need to be discussed?”</p><p>“You brought it up. Not me.”</p><p>Adam snorted, derisive. “Sorry for trying to have a conversation with you. It won’t happen again.”</p><p>“It probably will,” Ronan countered, “because apparently, you feel like you owe me.”</p><p>Adam wished he’d stop saying it. He already knew that Ronan had put his neck -- and fists -- out for him, and he already knew that there had to be retribution. He knew, he knew, he knew.</p><p>He stared at Ronan. In the garden’s dim lighting, his light eyes almost looked as dark as the shadowy snow blanketing the hedges lining the path around them.</p><p>Ronan squinted at him.</p><p>“You don’t owe me squat,” he said, speaking when Adam refused to. </p><p>“You’re wrong.”</p><p>“And you’re like -- fuck. You’re <em> possessed</em>.”</p><p>He didn't like that implication: that his hands and actions and choices and thoughts were not his own. They were. They were, they were, they were. And they were his alone, because Adam was his own person -- even if he needed to make things up to Ronan for a bit.</p><p>“I don’t know what’s so difficult for you to grasp.” Adam’s tone was curt, and in the seat of his chest, there was a sick twist of frustration that reminded him too much of his father’s forehead creases and spittle. Hands still in his pockets, Adam curled his nails into his palms in hopes of stifling it. “You already know what it’s about.”</p><p>
  <em> Don’t make me say it out loud. Don’t make me admit it. Don’t-- </em>
</p><p>Adam could barely make out half of the party din. Just another reminder.</p><p>“So you came,” Ronan submitted, “because of me?”</p><p>“Like I said, it’s really not that hard to get.”</p><p>“You didn’t have to come.”</p><p>“Didn’t I, though?”</p><p>“You had a fucking choice.”</p><p>“Did I, though?”</p><p>“There’s always a goddamn choice. I didn’t make you.”</p><p>Adam laughed. “‘I’ll drive us’? That’s what you said, and you looked right at me. You didn’t exactly leave it up for discussion.”</p><p>“You misinterpreted me, then.” Ronan sounded an awful lot like Gansey, and Adam just wasn’t a fan. “You clearly have some fucking unresolved issues with Gansey, so I made it easier for you to back out. Or agree. I didn’t <em> tell </em>you to come.”</p><p>“You texted about the Barns.”</p><p>“Holy shit, man. I said ‘if you need to,’ not ‘hey, you’re gonna stay at the fuckin’ Barns because I goddamn said so.’”</p><p>Adam knew that he had a point, but the way everything had happened -- it felt like Ronan <em> wanted </em>him to come. And Adam didn’t know how to say no. Adam didn’t even know if he actually wanted to say no, which meant--</p><p>Which meant that he was making excuses again.</p><p>Adam Parrish had grown up making excuses for his parents’ behavior, and now he was making excuses for his own.</p><p>“That doesn’t change what happened.” Adam shook his head and, even though he’d gone through great pains of trying to style it into something more formally presentable, he ran a hand through his hair. “That doesn’t change anything. I’m already here.”</p><p>“And you’re miserable as shit, stuck in a place you don’t wanna be,” Ronan snarled. </p><p>Adam’s eyes flashed. “Right, because the feeling is <em> so </em> new.”</p><p>Adam froze.</p><p>Shit.</p><p>
  <em> Shit. </em>
</p><p>It was bad enough that Ronan had gotten involved -- he didn’t need to hear even more about his shitty parents and his shitty old home life. Adam hadn’t meant to say it out loud. It was self-pitying, it was too much, it was too personal--</p><p>“<em>Jesus</em>, Adam,” Ronan exhaled, and Adam didn’t know if he’d ever called him anything other than ‘Parrish’ before that.</p><p>Adam’s throat felt dry. He wet his winter-chapped lips.</p><hr/><p>Gansey’s head pounded. He’d been nursing a headache since the day started, and it had only worsened as the evening progressed.</p><p>He didn’t know how to go about talking to Blue for the life of him. He considered not relaying Helen’s concerns, and he considered just not leaving Blue’s side for the rest of the evening. It seemed like a good idea, seeing as he already wanted to remain in her company, anyway -- but it also would have been wrong. It would have been dishonest, and if anything came up, he’d loathe having to undermine or dismiss her in a conversation.</p><p>It hardly helped that, despite Helen’s callousness, Gansey very well knew that she didn’t intend to be <em> mean. </em>He knew that Helen was stressed; Helen was under far more pressure to see to it that the campaign was successful than he was. He also knew his sister’s loyalties were always with family. He knew that she didn’t have the same luxury of being away from home for school, too.</p><p>And Gansey especially knew that something needed to be said, even if he didn’t agree with it. If not for his sister’s sanity and conscience, but for his mother’s sake.</p><p><em> Politics, </em>he thought bitterly. </p><p>How he hated them so.</p><p>As they walked into the garden, Gansey’s hand resting on Blue’s arm, he searched his brain for the right way to go about the conversation. For all the words he knew, and for all his verbiage, he found it terribly ironic that he was struggling so much. </p><p>He opted to start simple.</p><p>“You look dashing this evening, if nobody has yet to say.”</p><p>“Dashing,” Blue echoed, “because a woman can’t be beautiful or pretty in a suit. Is that it?”</p><p>Gansey winced. Somehow, he always managed to say the wrong thing to her, even when he meant well. He stopped walking and unthreaded his arm from hers.</p><p>“I did not mean it in that sense.”</p><p>“Oh, I am sure you did not,” she said, cuttingly avoiding contractions. He frowned.</p><p>“I’m terribly sorry, Jane.”</p><p>“I am sure you are, Richard.”</p><p>He opened his mouth, then closed it again. She was being colder than the weather itself, and though he hadn’t forgotten how upset she was when Helen found them in the parlor, he didn’t anticipate her to be upset at <em> him. </em></p><p>Gansey supposed, however, that it made sense.</p><p>Unless...</p><p>He wondered if Helen had already spoken to her.</p><p>Blue sighed, folded her arms, and cocked a hip. “Is there something you wanted to say to me?”</p><p>Gansey swallowed thickly. </p><p>“I’m afraid it’s not the easiest topic to breach.”</p><p>She seemed to soften, just a bit. “Well, at least try.”</p><p>“My sister pulled me aside. Ah, again.”</p><p>“Okay? And what does this have to do with me?”</p><p>“It seems,” Gansey managed, “that she’s caught wind of your conversations with the party guests. And she’s concerned that word will get back to our mother.”</p><p>Blue Sargent was a woman who spoke her mind without hesitation or remorse. He learned that early on in their friendship, but almost more fearsome than Blue’s verbal rage was Blue’s silence. It likely wasn’t wise for him to keep talking, but he did anyway.</p><p>“I attempted to reason with her, of course. I defended your right to freely engage in discussion and openly present your opinions, naturally, but Helen--”</p><p>Her voice was quiet, her tone was ice. “Helen <em> what</em>, Gansey?” </p><p>He straightened his suit.</p><p>“As much as I disagree with Helen’s censorship,” he said, making a point of calling it censorship, “she raised the issue of my mother’s career. She’s concerned, you see, that your dialogues could end up as reflections of our mother’s platform.” Gansey searched her face. “I was reluctant to share this with you, Jane, as I don’t believe that--”</p><p>“Okay,” she said, cutting him off.</p><p>“I…” Gansey knitted his brow. “I beg your pardon?”</p><p>“Okay,” Blue repeated evenly. “I understand.”</p><p>Gansey was smart enough to know that what she meant by ‘understand’ wasn’t a good thing. He held a hand out to her, entreatingly. “Jane, please. I’d like to talk about this. I want to make certain that you know that I don’t--”</p><p>“What, you don’t agree that the loud-mouthed upstart young lady wrongfully wearing a suit and tie will upset your mother’s potential funders and end up causing her to lose support in the election?” Blue fired back, taking a step forward. “Or is that exactly what you think?”</p><p>His headache worsened. Gansey pinched the bridge of his nose.</p><p>“I <em> just </em>said that I do not. I’d like to say, it hurts me when you insist on putting words in my mouth.”</p><p>“And it hurts me when you invite me to a place and let me think it’s an open forum for opinions, only to tell me not to talk about them when I arrive,” she defended.</p><p>“I don’t want to argue with you.”</p><p>Blue’s expression darkened. “Don’t talk to me like that, Gansey.”</p><p>“I’m just speaking,” he frowned. “I think that you are interpreting everything I say as an attack.”</p><p>“No, I just don’t like when your voice sounds like that.” Blue quickly held up a hand. “And don’t beg for my pardon. I’m talking about your fake voice. The one you use on the senators and CEOs and everyone else in that -- that <em> castle</em>. It’s not you.”</p><p>...Gansey wanted to be upset with her for twisting his words and for not actually listening to him, but in that moment, he couldn’t be frustrated.</p><p>Not while he felt seen.</p><p>Gansey knew that he was different when he was in the company of his parents, and even more so at their events. The pressure to perform always translated into a kind of refined, polished propriety that he didn’t need when he was just with Ronan, so after living with only Ronan for the past three years… He’d branched away from most of his Dick Gansey III tendencies -- but his pedigree was not easily unlearned.</p><p>“So you’ve noticed,” he murmured. Gansey pressed his thumb to his lip and looked askance. “You’re among the few.”</p><p>Blue scoffed, but from the corner of his eye, he noticed that her shoulders lowered. “It’s not hard to notice. You sound like an insufferable bastard when you use it, anyway.”</p><p>Gansey laughed, and just like that, a good amount of the tension they’d been building seemed to melt.</p><p>“I do, don’t I?”</p><p>“Yes,” she confirmed, just another touch less prickly. “And you look like one in this awful tie.”</p><p>“Ah. I thought the tie was tasteful.”</p><p>“Red for the Republican party?”</p><p>Gansey flushed. “In solidarity for my mother.”</p><p>“Right, well. I picked blue for a reason.” Blue fixed her own tie.</p><p>He took a breath.</p><p>“I don’t think you’re wrongfully wearing a suit and tie,” he assured her, addressing her earlier argument. And in dispute of an even earlier one: “In fact, I’d say that ‘dashing’ falls short. You were correct -- ‘beautiful’ is far more appropriate.”</p><hr/><p>“Don’t,” Adam said. He’d closed his eyes before turning away from him, but Ronan felt more inclined to face him than ever.</p><p>He wanted to know more. He wanted to know <em> Adam. </em></p><p>“Screw that noise,” Ronan sneered, even though it probably wasn’t what he should have said if he wanted Adam to open up to him. “You’re just gonna drop a bomb like that and not say shit after?”</p><p>He didn’t reply.</p><p>“<em>Adam.” </em></p><p>(Ronan liked how it rolled off of his tongue more than how ‘Parrish’ did.)</p><p>“Jesus Chri--alright, fine. Okay, what is there to say? What do you want to hear?” Adam snapped, whipping around to face him.</p><p>“I don’t fucking know, but you obviously have shit on your goddamn chest, and your piece of shit father--”</p><p>“My piece of shit father <em> what?” </em> He challenged, almost looking -- unhinged. Something was panicked in his blue, blue, <em> blue </em>eyes.</p><p>He remembered the first time he saw them in the library.</p><p>Ronan huffed.</p><p>“First, your piece of shit father beat the fuck out of you. Second, you just said you felt miserable. And stuck.”</p><p>“I used to. I got out.”</p><p>“Getting out isn’t getting over it.”</p><p>“Oh, don’t <em> Gansey </em> me.”</p><p>“I’m not--” He scrubbed a hand over his head. “I’m just fucking saying. Are we going to talk about your fuckshit daddy issues or not?”</p><p>“No, we’re not. I told you already,” Adam said, sounding unsteady. “<em>Don’t</em>.”</p><p>Ronan remembered Never Have I Ever at the Barns on Thanksgiving weekend. ‘Fessing up wouldn’t be a surprise, so…</p><p>“I’ve got them,” he reasoned. “So does Gansey. And Sargent. You already admitted it, too.”</p><p>“Drop it,” Adam said, starting to walk off. Ronan kept up.</p><p>“Have you even talked to Sarge about ‘em? And what the fuck is happening next for you, anyway? Are the police--”</p><p>“<em>Drop it</em>.”</p><p>“That shit eats you up alive, Parrish. Even I know that. Fuck, man, even I--”</p><p>Ronan stopped walking. He thought for a moment, then with a little more chest:</p><p><em> Cedere nescio, </em> Adam had said. <em> I know not how to yield. </em></p><p><em> “Scio quam cedere,” </em> he said, more urgently than he intended to. Ronan balanced the earnesty with a half-hearted insult. “You fucking asshole. How emotionally stunted are you, that you can’t even let someone be your goddamn friend? You’re worse than Gansey, and he may not seem it, but <em> he’s </em> repressed as <em> shit. </em>”</p><p>...When Adam stopped walking away, Ronan’s breath silently hitched.</p><p>“Why do you even care?” Adam murmured.</p><p>Ronan took a step forward. His fingers itched to hold Adam’s, but he’d die before he did anything Adam didn’t want him to. Even if it was just holding his hand or touching his shoulder, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. </p><p>He’d never forgive himself if Adam flinched at his touch.</p><p>Ronan closed his eyes.</p><p>“Why the fuck won’t you let me?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>&lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 love u guys so much thank u for reading</p><p>ur comments deadass make my days!!! you guys are absolute sweethearts and i'm so happy to be working on this alongside you all. thank you for all of your time, support, and interest. you're all rockstars! :')</p><p>also real shit sometimes i just think abt the gangsey and i need to sit down because i get so emotional. i also also wanted to say: if any1 has any prompts or requests, drop 'em into comments and i will totally keep them in mind for either potential oneshots or to incorporate into this bad boy!!! xxxx</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0036"><h2>36. now so far away from where we were 7 hours ago</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>the gift exchange! (i am so sorry for how late this is oh geez)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hi everyone, i'm so sorry for not updating ALL WEEK. oh my god. i've had a hell of a week and so much has happened and i fell behind on writing a little :( i'm real sorry, folks. i'm still a little out of the game so i'm not super proud of this chapter (thank u Writer's Block), but i also Know that if i didn't just suck it up and post it already then it would be even longer before i updated. or maybe i would end up discouraged and stop updating altogether, tbh -- and i absolutely did not want to do that !!! as such, i hope this suffices. thank u all so much for ur patience, i will be properly back on board real soon!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Why the fuck won’t you let me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam couldn’t bring himself to turn around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could fabricate a thousand answers for Ronan’s question, because the truth was something he was well-versed in hiding, but lying to Ronan felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Partially because Ronan gave “brutally honest” a new face; partially because Adam didn’t like having to hide his truths in the first place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the case of the latter, he still did it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of necessity. For this pride. For his sanity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Ronan Lynch had somehow slithered through all the cracks in all of his walls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He probably almost knew more about Adam than Blue did, which was undoubtedly an accomplishment. Since they met in high school, Blue Sargent was closer to Adam Parrish than anyone else in the world -- granted, she didn’t know much, but it was still more than the rest of the people in Henrietta. Unlike Ronan, though, she’d never even stepped foot on the dirt in front of his father’s doublewide. He never gave her the chance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam wondered if she’d take kindly to being dethroned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need you to,” he said. It was true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well,” Ronan replied, twisting his lip. “People don’t need a lot of shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both of their heads turned to the mansion towering above them. The monarchs within its walls were hosting the wealthiest of nobles, and on that evening, the rich were waltzing to live music that likely cost more than Adam’s living expenses for three -- maybe even four -- months. And wasn’t Ronan swimming in wealth, too? Even though Henrietta wasn’t a metropolis with an outrageous cost of living, with how much property the Lynches owned, Adam knew what kind of money he came from. The BMW, the fact that he went to the same high school as Gansey, the fact that he didn’t take classes </span>
  <em>
    <span>or</span>
  </em>
  <span> have a job -- It wasn’t hard to piece together. Adam just wondered why he even had a babysitting gig if he didn’t need to work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Oh, to not need to work.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam drew in a breath and, with his exhale, expelled as much envy out of his system as he could. The wind carried the sharp chill of his voice with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m well aware of that,” he said, “but thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not what I meant.”</span>
</p><p><span>“Okay, fine. Then what did</span> <span>you mean?”</span></p><p>
  <span>Ronan scoffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean that you’re pretty fucking dumb for a smart person, if I gotta spell this shit out for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beg pardon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam almost didn’t realize that the words had come from his mouth. Over the past few months, he’d done a good job of observing Gansey’s mannerisms and turn of phrase -- and when they rolled into Washington, a switch in his brain seemed to have flipped on. Even though Ronan was the only one around, Adam hadn’t let the curtains close. He couldn’t ever be too sure of who was and wasn’t watching, just like how he vigorously scrubbed under his fingernails at least three times over at the Barns, despite the chapped condition of his palms. Just like how he inspected every hem of his suit for frayed threads before they left, even though he’d only ever worn it twice before. Just like everything else he did to prepare for the party, so as to perfectly conceal the fact that he came from a world removed from Gansey’s realm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You,” Ronan said, speaking haltingly, “are pretty fucking dumb. For. A smart person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Adam finally looked behind him, Ronan was already walking away.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Somehow, they ended up standing toe-to-toe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, Blue’s fingers ended up gently pinching the fine silk of Gansey’s tie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gansey wanted to draw her impossibly closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue cleared her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m still upset,” she said, eyes flickering between his. Gansey’s breath was careful and shallow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” he said. “I cannot say that I understand, but I see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I just need to be upset.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s fair. Upset at me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Upset in general. Upset about how much I want to be upset at you, but can’t fully let myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because… I’m terribly charming?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue rolled her eyes. “Because I understand not wanting to ruin your mother’s career. And I can respect it, even if holding myself back from raising hell in there right now is </span>
  <em>
    <span>killing</span>
  </em>
  <span> me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gansey swallowed thickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, granted, my mom is a psychic and yours is trying to be a congresswoman. And these people didn’t want to hear me talk about Planned Parenthood, which definitely says something, so basically -- if I choose to keep being upset, I’m valid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(He knew she’d be talking about Planned Parenthood funding. His heart stammered in his chest when he realized that he, somehow, just </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew.</span>
  </em>
  <span>)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is indubitably true,” he managed. “You have multiple justifiable reasons to be aggravated with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know I do. Don’t try to </span>
  <em>
    <span>mansplain</span>
  </em>
  <span> my validity, Richard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d have laughed if he wasn’t so enthralled by the flames in her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jane?” He prompted, searching her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve a question.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you intend on releasing my tie in the near future?”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Ronan remembered his dream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered Adam walking away from him, and he remembered stopping him by urgently, but gently, catching his wrist. He remembered Adam turning around, he remembered </span>
  <em>
    <span>aching</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he remembered the dizzying Latin floating through the air, he remembered waking up and bringing Adam coffee and then staying up for the rest of the night because sleep was impossible with those eyes in his head. He remembered a lot of things that had to do with Adam, and he noticed a lot of things about Adam, and he wanted to know even more about Adam.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Of course, in Adam’s defense, Ronan hadn’t brought the touchy topics up in a very tactful way. In general, he never did things tactfully -- that was Gansey’s shtick.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the very least, Ronan wanted a sign that he wasn’t wasting his fucking breath with his stupid ass</span>
  <em>
    <span> hoping </span>
  </em>
  <span>and his dumbass </span>
  <em>
    <span>dreaming</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Or maybe he wanted Adam to shut him out altogether, so he could just step back completely. Or maybe Ronan just thought he wanted that, because it sounded easier than his pathetic goddamn pining.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...Far more than those things, though, Ronan was pretty sure that he just wanted Adam to </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> him, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unlike his dream -- unlike almost every other time that they’ve crashed into each other -- Ronan was the one walking away from Adam. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shoved his hands in his pockets and wondered if he was still having a better night than Gansey was.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Blue remembered her dream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She remembered her lips on Gansey’s, and she remembered Gansey going limp like a ragdoll and falling to the floor; she remembered the needles of rain and the dark figures standing around them and she remembered waking up, calling Gansey, going on a drive--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She remembered how much it hurt.</span>
</p><p><span>Blue just couldn’t tell what hurt more: her dream or how close they were. Were they too far, or too close? Not far enough, or not close enough? All things considered, there wasn’t much that should have made Gansey attractive to her. He was rich and white and just a little pretentious; he went to a private academy for high school and never once had to hold down a job because he was </span><em><span>filthy</span></em> <em><span>rich--</span></em></p><p>
  <span>She bit the inside of her cheek, just in case she was still dreaming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Adam watched Ronan stalk off, the dark lines of his suit outlining his tall figure as he retreated. Adam considered stopping him, of course -- he just didn’t, because he wanted the time alone to think. Because he needed to think. He needed--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God. Fuck. No, Adam didn’t need to think. He just needed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>act </span>
  </em>
  <span>because when he let himself </span>
  <em>
    <span>think, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought too much, and thinking too much always ended with him backing out and--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But not thinking things through had cost him the function of his left ear--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ronan,” Adam blurted, lurching forward far too late and summoning far too little of his voice. He didn't hear him. “Ronan--”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“I’m considering it,” Blue responded. Whispered. Mumbled. It was soft; he could only hear her because of their proximity. Gansey pursed his mouth and dragged his tongue over the roof of his mouth, tasting how his last mint leaf lingered on his palate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you considering anything else in particular?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was rather forward, he knew. He blamed what a long night it had been, and he blamed the enamoring tree motif of her suit, and he blamed the scent of wildflowers that she carried with her--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lifted a hand and touched the back of it to her cheek. Despite the freezing air, her skin was warm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue wet her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried not to stare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t step back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” she said, “are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m considering how much I’ll miss your company during this break.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s awfully dramatic. You can visit Henrietta, can’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I certainly hope so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can call, too. That would be fine with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled. “I’d like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gansey’s knuckles moved dangerously close to her lips as he dropped his hand from her face -- if she turned her cheek, just the slightest, they’d have brushed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I,” Ronan interjected, suddenly barely two yards away, “would like to bleach my eyeballs, you nasty ass fuckers. Can’t you find a closet to do this shit in, like normal horny college kids?”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>When he saw Gansey and Blue standing near the entrance of the garden, Ronan very well could have just turned around; turning around just hadn’t been the most viable option when it meant possibly running back into Adam. Luckily for Ronan, he didn’t give a fuck about interrupting “moments.” Blue could try and bite his ankles about it all she wanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he spoke, two feet of distance hilariously, immediately materialized between Gansey and Blue. He could see how much they both resented being compared to “horny college kids” -- it was in Blue’s narrowed eyes and Gansey’s rigid posture. She looked about ready to bite. Gansey looked about ready to answer a call from Helen that didn’t actually come.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ronan!” Gansey said, straightening his tie. “I’ve not seen you all evening. I was wondering why the foyer has yet to go up in flames.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue raised her eyebrows. “Hold the phone. He gets to commit </span>
  <em>
    <span>arson</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but I can’t talk about dismantling capitalism?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ronan looked between them. Blue sounded actually pressed; Gansey looked actually concerned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, shit. Are you two snogging or arguing out here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Obviously neither,” Gansey said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Obviously arguing,” Blue said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I -- ah, still?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calm down. I was being sarcastic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Ah. Right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue sighed and turned to Ronan. “Where’s Adam? You two came out here right after Gansey left, didn’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did?” Gansey blinked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They did,” Blue said. “So what, were </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> two snogging or arguing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off, maggot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh, both? Spicy, Lynch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just arguing, if you gotta know.” Ronan bared his teeth in a savage smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You two seem to do that quite a bit,” Gansey observed, frowning slightly. “Ever in tumultuous waters, the pair of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue frowned, too. “Well, is he okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ronan didn’t know. Ronan didn’t ever know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“--approaching us now! What ideal timing,” Gansey interrupted, having sidestepped away from behind Ronan to properly greet Adam. When he looked over his shoulder, Ronan found that Gansey was right: he was walking towards them. Hands in his pockets. Shoulders raised against the cold. There was no way to see his eyes from so far away, but Ronan knew that they held oceans that couldn't be charted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesus fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“--being a fucking punk,” Ronan grumbled under his breath. Gansey was too busy trying to remove himself from the “horny college kid” topic to hear him, but Blue--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue was staring at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The fuck are you looking at?” Ronan snapped at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just thinking that we should find Noah and Henry,” she said, “that’s all. I think we should swap presents now.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>And that, they did. After Gansey commented on the finesse of Adam’s suit, and after Adam actually accepted the compliment, the four of them set out to find Noah and Henry. It hadn’t been hard, because right as they made their way back into the estate, the two other boys rounded the corner -- gifts already in arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same wavelength,” Blue had said, beaming at Noah as she reached out to help him with the packages he was carrying. “I was thinking the same thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noah grinned. “Should I consider a career in the psychic business?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe talk to my mom before you make any big decisions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More miraculously than their great minds thinking alike, though, Gansey had gone a full five minutes without being approached by a single guest. Noah figured that it was because he was flanked by Blue and Ronan, who were intimidating on their own, but even more so when they were a united front. They looked like Gansey’s bodyguards, or something neat like that, when they stood by him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their tour of the mansion was a brief one, if only because they ducked into the first available room on the second floor: another parlor sort of space, with fine leather couches and mahogany tables and fancy sconces and paintings on the wall. Gansey disappeared for a moment, leaving them to carefully perch themselves on the furniture until Blue said “screw it” and decidedly sat on the floor, and soon returned with a brightly-colored package of his own. He claimed an armchair, Henry and Adam and Ronan were on the sofas, and Noah sat on the floor with Blue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their respective seating choices had become something of a trend for them, he noticed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Noah said, shoulders bouncing as he clapped his hands. “I’m amped. I’m stoked. I’m ready. How do we want to do this, guys? Blue?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue heaved a great sigh -- though she did do so with a smile. “You already know that I got you, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh. I had a hunch,” he said, mirroring her expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you." She passed him a small box: it was wrapped in newspaper and tied up with twine in true Blue fashion. “Happy holidays, champ.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he proceeded to open it, Noah scooted over enough to wrap her up in a hug and smush the side of his face against hers. Blue laughed and turned her face just enough to peck his cheek, then playfully knocked her elbow into his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Open it already,” she said, “you’ve been waiting long enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The contents of the box were, just like the package itself, incredibly </span>
  <em>
    <span>Blue: </span>
  </em>
  <span>most of it was homemade, all of it was thoughtful. Noah received an embroidery thread friendship bracelet, a little snow globe with a picture of himself, Blue, and Gansey from Henry’s Halloween party inside of it (alongside a ton of glitter), a tiny bottle of peach schnapps, and an extensive handwritten letter. He immediately started hugging her and refused to stop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he said for the millionth time, still holding Blue. “I love all of it. I really, really, genuinely, seriously do. Help me put this on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew you would,” she snickered, petting his hair not unlike the way he often would pat hers. When she finished tying his new bracelet onto his wrist, Blue patted his hand. “Who’d you get?”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Ronan,” Noah reveal, grinning broadly. He untangled himself from around Blue, reached beside him, and extended a rectangular box to Ronan. “Merry Christmas, ya stinker.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ronan wasn’t used to formal gifts, so when he accepted Noah’s, it was almost with… Uncertainty. Niall Lynch used to bring his sons presents every time he came home, from new bikes to game consoles -- all kinds of shit that kept little boys from thinking about how absent their father actually was. Where the Ganseys were rich in the elegantly minimalist way, the Lynches were rich in the house-overflowing-with-stuff way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t realize that he’d gone through Noah’s packaging until he was looking down at what was inside of the box: a large black picture frame, unimpressive and simple. The picture within the frame, though...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The faces of the six people in the room looked up at him. It was clearly a selfie Noah took, because in the lower right corner, all one could see was Noah's eyes and hair and a peace sign. Blue was in Gansey’s polo, signaling to Ronan that it was a picture taken on Thanksgiving weekend. She sat with Gansey and Henry on a couch, and while the three of them grinned, Adam spared the camera a small smile, and Ronan was in the background with his middle finger up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got a ton of pictures up at the Barns,” Noah explained, looking a little sheepish. “I thought it might be neat to have somethin’ of your friends. I mean -- you don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to put it up. But it felt like a good idea at the time. There’s, uh -- on the back--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the back: a note. Also in the box: a bunch of blank cassette tapes and a package of black Sharpies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tapes since the BMW only has a cassette player,” Noah continued, “and Sharpies for, you know--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Graffiti?” Blue supplied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Graffiti,” Gansey lamented.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Graffiti!” Noah laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just like how Noah surprised him with how much he knew Ronan, Ronan surprised himself with how much he actually liked everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Ronan said, putting the lid back on the box and crumpling up the wrapping paper he’d torn up. He knew that Chainsaw would get a kick out of it if he brought it back with them to the Barns. “This didn’t fully suck ass, Czerny. Good shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, shucks, man. You’re welcome.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Ronan threw Adam his gift instead of handing it to him. Adam almost didn’t catch it, given the way Ronan just chucked it at him with no warning--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>god. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ronan </span>
  </em>
  <span>had got him a present.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room was silent as he held it in his hands. Adam looked up at Ronan, but Ronan just gave him a peeved expression that basically said ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Well? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Are you gonna fucking open it or what, Parrish?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did, but he was exceedingly careful about it. He slid his fingers under the folds of the wrapping paper, he slowly peeled away tape, he gingerly pulled back paper, he held the package in his hands like it was precious -- and it was, since someone had taken the time and money to get it for him. </span>
  <span>Maybe even more so because it came from Ronan, since Ronan a person that he already owed enough as it was. Ronan’s present grew heavier in his hands by the second, and Adam regretted not backing out of Secret Santa while he had the chance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beneath the wrapping was a small, white, plastic container. It looked like the true label had been peeled clean off, but after turning it over to inspect it further, Adam found </span>
  <em>
    <span>“manibus” </span>
  </em>
  <span>written in black marker. The word made him freeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For your hands.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam looked up at Ronan.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For your hands.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For your hands.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For your hands.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Adam said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. It was good enough for the time being, but more importantly--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When had Ronan noticed his hands?</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Ronan didn’t say anything back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam cleared his throat. Gansey didn’t know what exactly Ronan had gotten him, but it was clearly something personal, if the way Adam’s eyes had widened was any indication. He wondered if the two of them were far closer than they let on. It seemed more than likely, despite the... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Palpable tension.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got Gansey,” Adam eventually said, standing up to pass him his gift. Gansey fumbled to receive it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam sat back down, his little container held in his lap, stark white against the dark slate of his suit. “You don’t even know what it is yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I do know, however, that I’m thankful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Upon carefully peeling back the wrapping, Gansey found that Adam had given him a copy of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Owen Glendower: A Historical Novel </span>
  </em>
  <span>by one John Powys. He turned the book over in his hands, fingers reverently running over the embossed binding and cover title. It was an older edition, certainly, with its worn corners and yellowed pages. Had Adam actually listened to him ramble, all those days before? Back when they met a second time, at the coffee shop?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adam,” Gansey said, “this is--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing special,” he dismissed. “I wasn’t sure of which titles you already owned about Arthur, but this was in the same section."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gansey brought the book to his chest. “It’s perfect,” he smiled. “Thank you, Adam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“And I,” Gansey said, standing after he’d delicately placed his new book on the glass coffee table, “drew Henry’s name. For you, good sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s an honor, Richardman,” Henry responded, accepting Gansey’s gift with both hands and a respectful nod. Henry had left Noah’s gift to him with his coat, as he did not want to be the only person with two packages during their exchange  -- such hardly would have been fair. Like Adam had been, Henry was mindful of undoing the wrapping on his gift, but then Ronan groaned and Noah egged him on and the remainder was torn with half of a laugh and half of a sigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his hands, Henry held a Madonna shirt, dated with “1987” and printed with “Who’s That Girl World Tour.” It wasn’t threadbare, but it was certainly somewhat weathered -- a bona fide vintage shirt. Henry shook his head in both awe and disbelief; how Gansey had gotten ahold of such a gem, he knew not. Henry wondered what it cost him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. President, how can I accept this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gansey waved his hand with a chuckle. “Happily, I would hope.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“I’ll treasure it always,” Henry promised Gansey. Blue knew what that meant, of course: since everyone else had gotten their gifts, it left Henry had been her Secret Santa. With a grand announcement of her name, he bestowed a brown paper bag in her lap; its contents were hidden by newspaper used like decorative wrapping tissue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Strong presentation,” she commented, genuinely admiring the fact that he didn’t waste wrapping paper on her gift. He tossed his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is there to say? I know my audience.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue snorted and proceeded to remove the newspaper from the bag. At the bottom of it, wrapped in more newspaper, there was--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A Polaroid Spectra,” Henry narrated, smiling broadly at the surprise on her face. “Please, no applause.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good grief, Henry,” Blue frowned. She was expecting a new set of Dollar Store hair clips or patterned socks -- not an instant camera. “I thought we set a price limit on these gifts. Is this vintage? Was it expensive?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If chanced upon at local thrift stores, they are not. Again, I implore you all -- no clapping.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nobody’s fuckin' clapping, Cheng,” Ronan said, arms folded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Speak for yourself!” Blue turned the camera over in her hands. It was in great condition and she could already imagine what she could paint on it -- treetops and honeybees and wildflowers. “Thank you, Henry, this is--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah -- ah -- ah,” he interrupted. “Thank me after the first photo, Lieutenant. There’s film in the bag.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noah sat upright. “Group picture?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Group picture,” Blue grinned, already slotting a square package of film into the camera. “Ronan, actually smile for this one, would you?”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Fat chance,” Ronan said, ever uninvested. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Blue set up her new camera, Adam kept messing with the container Ronan gave him. When he’d opened it up, there was a colorless cream inside -- a lightly scented lotion that reminded him of mornings in Henrietta, when the sun had yet to fully rise and the earth was dewy and the air was misty. While the others had gone about opening their gifts from each other, Adam had experimentally dipped a finger into the lotion, and upon rubbing it into his hands, he swore that Ronan was watching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam looked up when Blue asked them to get together, and he willed Ronan to look at him again. In the gardens, he’d resolved to ask Blue if he could spend the night at Fox Way so that he could return to school in the morning, but now--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he’d be better off at the Barns.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i would again like 2 apologize for the delay, hzk. i've been typing away at this all week and i just couldn't quite Vibe with these scenes but....oh well! they r here. this is far from a polished work with a defined plot, bc it's truthfully just me rambling abt my feelings 4 the gangsey, though i'm sure u all have picked up on that by now hehe. nonetheless, i wanna thank you guys for reading and supporting anyway! i may be a little slower about replying to comments and writing chapters while i slog through midterm szn, but i'm definitely not done writing! i promise!!!! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0037"><h2>37. well, it's time for honesty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>the evening after the gala -- most importantly, pynch dances around the idea of opening up to one another.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Greeting guests was always harder than wishing them safe travels, in Gansey’s opinion, because the end of an event was far less mentally intimidating than the beginning of one. The former situation demanded a bit more conversation and catching up, while bidding guests farewell was a much briefer affair. </p><p>That night had been unfortunately different, for among the people he had to say goodbye to were his friends.</p><p>He knew that it was silly; he knew that Blue had a point, back in the garden. Henrietta was a three hour drive and his family had more than enough cars to place at his disposal, so time and transportation was of no concern -- truthfully, it was simply saddening to think of not seeing Ronan daily. Winter holidays of previous years had been different because Ronan didn’t have the Barns to (illegally) reside in, and so the two of them remained at Warren and kept one another company. And now…</p><p>Now, Gansey had four new faces to long to see again. He didn’t know who he envied more: Blue, for living so close to Ronan, or Ronan for living so close to Blue.</p><p>The six of them walked through the estate to get to the garage, so as to save them the trouble of putting on their coats to get through the cold. Everyone held something in their arms: Adam had his strange little white container, Ronan had the box Noah gave him (as well as all of the wrapping paper shreds, for Chainsaw), and Blue and Henry and Noah all had their gifts, too. The three of them were walking with linked arms -- Noah was between the others, trying to get them to all step in sync with one another, while Ronan led the way with Adam not too far behind him.</p><p><em> At the very least, </em> Gansey thought, <em> I’ll have Adam’s book to occupy my time.  </em></p><p>Blue glanced over her shoulder at him and pointedly held out her arm.</p><p>“You look sulky,” she accused.</p><p>
  <em> ...As well as Blue’s phone number. </em>
</p><p>With a smile, Gansey removed his hands from his pockets, looped his arm through hers, and fell into step with them. </p><p>“I believe I’d prefer to call it ‘pensive,’” he said, tipping his head at her. Blue snorted.</p><p>“Well, stop, either way. We’ll see each other soon, I’m sure,” she replied, as if reading his mind. He didn’t comment on how she somehow knew exactly what he was thinking, for Blue Sargent made it abundantly clear that she was not, in any sense of the word, psychic.</p><p>(Naturally, she was correct. Already, Gansey was planning on carving out time to drive down to Henrietta, though the chance wouldn’t come soon enough at all.)</p><hr/><p>Henry had offered to take Adam with him back to Warren Grey, since he would be headed back to the Litchfield House anyway. Like many of the international students of the Vancouver Crowd, he wasn’t going to be spending the break abroad with family.</p><p>Adam considered it, and Ronan knew he did, because he could clearly see it on his face: the slightly pursed lips, the distant glassiness in his eyes as he weighed out his choices, the slow blink when he finally made up his mind and slipped back into the present moment.</p><p>“That’s alright,” Adam said, “but I appreciate your offer.”</p><p>Ronan refrained from raising his eyebrows; he fully expected him to catch a ride with Henry. But, if Adam wasn’t going back to his school apartment, that meant--</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>As soon as Adam turned, Ronan looked away. He proceeded to unlock all the doors to the BMW, allowing Blue to climb into the backseat after she hugged Noah and Gansey -- and allowing Adam to slide into the passenger’s seat after he said his own goodbyes.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>He held Ronan’s gift to him in his lap, cradled in his hands.</p><p>
  <em> Fuck. </em>
</p><hr/><p>As Gansey requested, Henry made a point of telling the group chat he returned to Litchfield safely. His message was brief, as he was eager to get inside and hang up his tie, but as he gathered up his present from Gansey and his coat--</p><p>A thin square, wrapped in the same sugar cookie-printed paper that Ronan’s gift from Noah had been covered in, fell out from the folds of his jacket. God -- how had he forgotten? Warmth that rivaled the winter chill just outside of his car spread behind his sternum as he peeled back the wrapping. A plastic CD case was left behind, and in Noah’s handwriting, the disc it held read: “‘I cherish the joy / you keep bringing it into my life.’ (Quote, Madonna! Not me, but huge vibe, right?! AKA I just listened to the playlist you sent me so, y’know--)”</p><p>...Despite his earlier impatience to settle in for bed, Henry removed the disc from its case, slipped it into the stereo, and closed his eyes as the first track on the mix began to play.</p><hr/><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> home safe! </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> :) same :) </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> Fantastic to hear. Ronan and Adam? </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> en route to the barns as we speak </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> In which case, I anticipate their texts, too. </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> are you just going to stay up and wait for them to get there? </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> ^^^^ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> how are u not exhausted </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i talked to like four of those guys and i’m beat </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> Surely, I will spare as much time as needed to know you’re all home alright. </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> aw gansey </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> You all did make quite a trip out to DC. And I can’t imagine that it was much fun, so it’s the least I can do. </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> ugh </em>
</p><p>
  <em> don’t be annoying </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> …? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’m sorry? </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> you should be </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> Ah. ‘I’m sorry’ as in ‘I don’t understand.’ </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> i said what i said </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> welp </em>
</p><p>
  <em> she said what she said </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> ‘Annoying’ as in… </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> as in just say thank you again and move on </em>
</p><p>[ Gansey ]</p><p>
  <em> I see </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Thank you again and move on </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> aha </em>
</p><p>
  <em> he got u blue </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> :/ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> don’t encourage him </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ur welcome </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> yeah! of course man </em>
</p><p>
  <em> thx for having us :) :) :) :) :) </em>
</p><p>
  <em> c u all soon……….? christmas pt 2 please </em>
</p><p>
  <em> no suits! only ugly sweaters </em>
</p><hr/><p>It was a nice idea, Blue thought -- a cozier, smaller, less <em> proper </em> Christmas gathering with them, even though she didn’t technically celebrate it. To say the least, Halloween had certainly been interesting, and Thanksgiving had been an ordeal, and Christmas so far… Well, that evening had also been interesting, so she was certain that another wouldn’t manage to disappoint. She entertained the idea as she shed her suit and started to unpack her luggage. Blue’s mind wandered in general: to how oddly normal it felt to slip into Fox Way and find her mother test-brewing tea in the kitchen instead of sleeping, to how easy it was to talk to her despite everything that had happened (and didn’t happen!), to how <em> different </em>her home was from Gansey’s castle of a house--</p><p>Blue heaved the bin up into her arms and started down the stairs, her socked feet quieter than Persephone’s voice as she walked to the laundry room. She hadn’t thought about the fact that Gansey saw her home before she saw his until then -- his visit had been so brief, and her mind had been so occupied, that she’d almost forgotten that he’d already seen the pictures and plants and mirrors that populated the first floor.</p><p>Oh, and then she thought about how different their worlds were. Though it was shocking that they had met each other at all, it was even more surprising that she and Gansey actually became friends. As Blue put her clothes in a laundry basket and picked up around her room, she marveled at how quickly time had gone. Just like that, she completed her first semester at Warren Grey -- and somehow, she’d found colorful company along the way. And truthfully?</p><p>She missed them already.</p><hr/><p>Without Blue in the car as a buffer, the air seemed to have shifted, and Adam knew it wasn’t because having her open the door had invited in a draft.</p><p>The drive to the Barns was, as Adam predicted it would be, a silent one -- save for the hum of Ronan’s music coming from the stereo. Even with only one ear to collect the sound, it was still borderline insufferable. Just like a lot of things about Ronan.</p><p>But Adam put up with it. </p><p>Just like he did with a lot of things about Ronan.</p><p>He couldn’t stop thinking about the gala. He’d spent at least half of it walking and talking to Ronan in the garden, and the second half of it had been <em> avoiding </em>him. And, even after all the time he had to think about what he wanted to say, nothing came to mind. The container of lotion in his hands felt leaden with a price that Adam couldn’t ever hope to pay.</p><p>...He figured that that was why Ronan had removed all identifying labels from the thing: so that Adam couldn’t find out what brand it was and how much it was. Adam almost felt sick, thinking about using a hand cream that likely would have costed him a month of rent. Ronan probably knew that he wouldn’t have accepted it if he could prove that it was too expensive, which meant that Ronan was a lot smarter than he seemed to want to let on.</p><p>In the passenger seat of the BMW, Adam closed his eyes. They were passing the road that, if taken, would lead to his father’s trailer park.</p><p><em> Eight days, </em> he thought.</p><p>Adam swallowed thickly.</p><p>“Eight days,” he said.</p><p>“...What?”</p><p>“Eight days,” Adam repeated, eyes still closed. “The hearing is in eight days. I think my mom’s called a few times, to try and get me to drop the charges.”</p><p>Ronan’s response was delayed. Adam’s heart was in his throat, which was the closest to his tongue that it had ever been before.</p><p>“Well, are you?”</p><p>Adam didn’t know. Was he?</p><p>“I thought about it,” he admitted. He ran his thumb over the nearly invisible seam between the base of the container and its lid. “I don’t know. I could.”</p><p>“You don’t have to. You know that shit, right?”</p><p>“I don’t have to press charges, or I don’t have to drop them?”</p><p>“Sure,” Ronan said, “both. I don’t fucking know.”</p><p>“That’s unhelpful.”</p><p>“I never said I’d be fucking helpful. I said I’d listen.”</p><p>It drew a huff of a laugh out of him, surprisingly. “Okay. Fair.”</p><p>“Well?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Are you going to tell me what you’re thinking about doing, or what? Asshole.”</p><p>...Adam decided to open his eyes.</p><hr/><p>The catering team bustled around the foyer and the parlors and really, almost all of the first floor, once all the guests had left, and Gansey had made a point of thanking them and pressing gratuity bills into each of their hands, even though his parents likely already had. Adam and Blue would have wanted him to. </p><p>Without the drapery and the lights and the people, the Gansey estate was rather empty. Hauntingly empty, really -- its opulence was generated by open space and minimalism and tasteful vases and elegant light fixtures, which made it not at all like the Barns or Fox Way or his apartment with Ronan. As Gansey carried his glass of water to his room, he flipped through his phone in hopes of receiving a text from Ronan or Adam or Noah or Blue, though the latter had already informed him that they settled in.</p><p>Gansey sighed when no notifications slid down.</p><p>Gansey almost sighed again when Helen appeared behind him in the hallway.</p><p>“Dick,” she said. He turned around to find her dressed down, hair free of its updo and makeup removed. She looked tired -- it was a feeling she never let anyone but him see so plainly written across her features, and he knew it. Gansey raised his glass of water at her.</p><p>“Good evening, Helen,” he said, echoing the same last words he’d said to her at the party. “Excellent function, per usual.”</p><p>Her smile was grim at first… And then it softened.</p><p>“You think so?”</p><p>Gansey shook his head at her. Of course -- of course, of course, of <em> course </em> she doubted that she’d done enough to satisfy their parents.</p><p>“I’m certain,” he assured her. “Mother was in a fantastic mood when she bid the caterers farewell. As was our father.”</p><p>“Then I can breathe,” she sighed, dragging a hand down her face. Gansey took a step closer and offered her his glass of water, and though she hesitated, she eventually accepted it. After a sip, she ran a finger around the lip of the cup. “Listen, Dick.”</p><p>He held a hand out to stop her. “You don’t have to.”</p><p>“I should.”</p><p>“You were under pressure, I’m aware.”</p><p>“Well, yes, I was -- but still,” Helen frowned. “I don’t want you or your friends to think me a monster.”</p><p>“I don’t. They don’t.”</p><p>Helen gave him a look. Gansey pursed his lips before correcting himself.</p><p>“Ronan might, but the others do not.”</p><p>“I meant Blue,” she scoffed. Gansey blinked at the use of her name.</p><p>“You know--”</p><p>“Her name? Yes, you’ve said it enough times. As did a few guests.” Gansey’s expression was sheepish; Noah and Henry had relayed the gist of their conversations to him after their gift exchange. “And also, I noted the way in which your gaze… Trailed.</p><p>Jesus--</p><p>“My gaze did not ‘<em>trail,’” </em>Gansey countered, feeling scandalized. He gave her his water -- and she repaid him like that? His cheeks were warm. Helen’s mood seemed to lighten as she reached out to pat his shoulder.</p><p>“Of course it didn’t,” she said, brushing past him and taking his water with her. “I’m sure saying that makes it easier to rest, so do sleep well, Dick.”</p><p>Gansey took on that second sigh. He knew that that was as far of an apology as he would receive--</p><p>(His phone buzzed to life in his other hand, sending his heart rate up. He smiled at the contact image that lit up his screen.)</p><p>--and coming from Helen, it was enough.</p><p>He slipped into his room and raised his phone to his ear.</p><p>“Good evening, Jane.”</p><hr/><p>Gravel crunched, wood creaked, evergreens whispered. Ronan opened the door to the farmhouse and threw his bag of clothes at the foot of the stairs on his way to the closet. Since Adam was staying over, he needed to get the air mattress set up, so--</p><p>“Can I ask you a question?” Adam said. He was in the middle of stepping out of his shoes and carefully lining them up by the door, in contrast to how Ronan had unlaced his boots and haphazardly kicked them off. Ronan peered back into the closet and yanked out the pump and the raisined-up mattress to throw onto the living room floor.</p><p>“Depends on the question.”</p><p>“You never sleep upstairs when we’re here.”</p><p>“That’s not a question, Einstein.”</p><p>“Don’t you have a room?”</p><p>“No shit, I have a room,” he responded, kicking a corner of the mattress so that it would flatten out. Ronan wasn’t surprised when Adam quickly strode across the room to take care of plugging in the air pump. “News flash, I grew up here. Thought you all figured that shit out by now.”</p><p>“I did,” Adam said. “But why don’t you ever use it?”</p><hr/><p>“Evening?” Blue repeated, smiling softly at the sound of his voice. “It’s nearly two in the morning. Are you too tired for technicalities?”</p><p>“Perhaps I am. Is that a first?”</p><p>She hummed as she leaned back in her bed. “No, actually. I don’t think so.”</p><p>“I can hang up,” he offered, “I can hang up and call you back and greet you ‘good morning.’”</p><p>“Don’t--” Blue interrupted herself with a yawn, “--bother. That’s just excessive.”</p><p>“Are you too tired for excessives?”</p><p>“If I were,” she snorted, “I wouldn’t have called you.”</p><hr/><p>“Because,” Ronan said.</p><p>Adam frowned. “That’s not much of an answer.” Then, deciding to echo him, he added: “Einstein.”</p><p>He probably should have left it off.</p><p>The pump whirred as the mattress slowly inflated.</p><p>“Then first the fuck off,” Ronan clipped, scowling, “the bed’s too fucking short. I was barely fifteen the last time I slept in it.”</p><p>Adam busied himself by shedding his jacket.</p><p>“And second--”</p><p>When Ronan stopped himself short, Adam paused in hanging his coat up in the closet. He turned his head, slowly, to find Ronan looking distantly at one of the pictures in the room. He looked the way that Adam felt when he mentioned his court hearing date in the BMW.</p><p>Vulnerable.</p><p>“...Second?” Adam prompted, voice soft.</p><p>“I can’t even bring myself to stand in the room. How the fuck am I supposed to sleep in it?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hey folks! thank u all so much for the warm reception to the last chapter, oh my gosh? i wasn't expecting it to land so solidly but a h, my h e a rt. i am forever so grateful to all of you for your support and patience! thank you from the bottom of my heart! &lt;3 i am proud 2 say that i've knocked one midterm out of the park and things are starting to look up &gt;:) i'm hoping to start writing more regularly, because there is so! much! that i want to write! i'm v v v excited about what's building up hehe</p><p>(sorry it's 2am and i just got writing jitters so i Had to knock smthn out)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0038"><h2>38. lead me forward wanderer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>adam with ronan @ the barns -- lots of adam interiority. they go into ronan's room. also, blue and gansey keep talking on the phone.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A voice, distinctly Ronan’s, echoed in Adam’s head. If Ronan whispered in his bad ear, Adam felt like he would be able to hear him anyway -- physically impossible as it actually was.</p><p>He hadn’t taken a single sip of champagne that night, but he still felt drunk.</p><p>It was two in the morning when they got back to the Barns, so it was nearly three by the time they settled in. Ronan opted to use the shower downstairs, which left Adam to use the one on the second story. Before he even stepped into the bathroom, though, he remembered the last time he was in it -- and for the entirety of his shower, Adam was lost in the memory of what had happened <em> that </em> evening.</p><p>He forgot to grab his shampoo and conditioner and soap from his bag, so he resolved to use tiny amounts of what was already in the shower. Though nobody would miss the dime-sized amount of shampoo he took, that’s exactly how he saw the little glob of soap: as dimes. Money that wasn’t his. Money that he’d need to pay back somehow.</p><p>
  <em> His father’s hand, lashing forward </em>
</p><p>Adam worked the shampoo into his hair and rinsed away what little product he’d used to style it for the event.</p><p>
  <em> The hard impact on the cold -- cold -- cold railing made the side of his head hot, hot, hot </em>
</p><p>Conditioner. Same thing. Another twenty cents.</p><p>
  <em> Dirt dissolving on his tongue </em>
</p><p>He rinsed his hair again, then turned around to tip his mouth towards the shower head. His teeth felt gritty. His throat felt dry.</p><p>
  <em> Ronan </em>
</p><p>Adam considered turning the water all the way towards the faded blue snowflake on the water handle. </p><p>He made it hotter instead.</p><p>
  <em> Muffled police sirens </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ronan </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The hospital </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ronan </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Gansey and Blue </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ronan  </em>
</p><p>He scrubbed body wash over the nape of his neck and over his arms using the heels of his palms. </p><p>
  <em> Ronan </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ronan </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ronan. </em>
</p><p>When Adam eventually emerged from the bathroom, hair damp and skin still warm from the scalding temperature of the water, he found Ronan in the hallway. He was leaning against the wall, opposite to a closed door -- and he was staring at it, as if his gaze alone could knock it down. Or make it disappear. Or send what was behind it up into flames.</p><p>Adam swallowed thickly and slowly padded down the hallway, and though he looked at Ronan, Ronan didn’t look at him -- he was too busy glaring at the door. Adam stopped beside Ronan and joined him in looking at the old brass handle, the one that was offending Ronan by just existing.</p><p>Moments bled into each other until eternity had made his bones creaky with unuse.</p><p>
  <em> The bathroom </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sinking to the floor </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ronan’s hand, outstretched-- </em>
</p><p>Adam knew his idea was selfish, but when he reached out to act on it, Ronan didn’t stop him. </p><p>The doorknob was cool under his touch.</p><p>
  <em> Serva me </em>
</p><p>“<em>Servabo te</em>,” Adam murmured.</p><p>He turned the handle, just enough to free it from the frame and let it creak ajar.</p><p>Ronan didn’t move, so Adam went in for him.</p><hr/><p>“I wanted to thank you for coming tonight. I can’t tell you what it meant to me.”</p><p>“You already did,” Blue yawned. What time was it? Far too late for them to be awake, given the night they had, surely -- Gansey’s insomnia be damned. There she was anyway, laying in her bed with her phone on her chest and her earphones on. Blue pulled her covers a little higher over her shoulders. “The first part, at least. Multiple times.”</p><p>Gansey sighed on the other end of the line. “Yes, well -- it’s true. I’m thankful. I know we only saw so much of one another, but still, I--"</p><p>“Appreciate it,” she finished for him, “I <em> know. </em>We all do. Really. Now just shut up about it, will you?”</p><p>Blue knew it was mean, but Gansey chuckled about it anyway, and whether it was because he was best friends with Ronan Lynch or because he knew that she was just always a little mean, Blue couldn’t tell. But he didn’t hang up, or anything -- Gansey never hung up first.</p><p>(Sleepy as she was, she felt awake when she thought about that: Gansey never hung up first, as if he wanted every possible second he could have on the phone with her. If Blue were foolish and not vain, she wouldn’t have flattered herself with the idea -- but she wasn’t foolish, and she was definitely vain, and so she did flatter herself with the idea.)</p><p>“Gansey,” she said, saving him the trouble of having to pick up after the conversation she’d shut down.</p><p>“Jane?” He responded, the way he always did. He sounded tired, too. Either one of them could have fallen asleep at any moment and she knew it.</p><p>“Tell me why don’t you believe in coincidences.”</p><p>Gansey laughed another breathy sort of laugh, made even more breathy by the nature of their phone call. “I may end up keeping you awake for far longer than you’d like if I answered that now.” He paused. “My God, that was long-winded. Did that make sense? I apologize.”</p><p>“First of all, there’s no way you could make me do anything against my will.”</p><p>“Very true. That’s comforting.”</p><p>“Second of all, you’re kind of always long-winded.”</p><p>“I tend to ramble more when tired. You know this.”</p><p>“Well, when you ramble, it means I know you’re finally able to fall asleep,” Blue pointed out. </p><p>She didn’t even know that she knew that.</p><p>Gansey was quiet for another moment.</p><p>This was how their conversations at night would go -- they’d ask one another questions until someone fell asleep. Blue figured that the reason why Gansey never hung up was because he either waited for her to cut off their chat first, or he fell asleep first and Blue was the one who stopped their call. She could easily recall when their calls lasted no more than three or five minutes, then five minutes became ten, and at some point, ten became thirty which became sixty and over.</p><p>“I don’t believe in coincidences,” he started, speaking slowly and clearly, “because if not for coincidences, I don’t believe I’d be alive.”</p><hr/><p>Ronan’s room -- <em> childhood </em> room, he thought in specific -- wasn’t what he expected it to be, but it was also everything that a child’s room should have been. There was a poster of a car on the wall, some framed pictures just like the ones in the kitchen and living room and everywhere else in the farmhouse. There was a muddy and dusty soccer ball in a corner. Clothes on the floor, ones that looked far too small for how tall Ronan had become; a perfectly made up bed, feather white; some multi-limbed monster (bagpipes?) in a chest.</p><p>On a shelf, there were even more things, but they were things that Adam couldn’t name. He was overwhelmed; his brain was moving too quickly for words like ‘book’ and ‘action figure.’ He very well knew that he was intruding, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to care, because opening the door had felt <em> right.</em> Adam was taking up space and he didn’t ask for permission and it was probably wrong, inconsiderate, tactless, but this was--</p><p>Something else?</p><p>No, different.</p><p>Something different.</p><p>Adam picked up a shiny, atomic red muscle car from the shelf. It seemed like the only thing that hadn’t collected a thick layer of dust, and while that was logically impossible, Adam didn’t have much logic at his current disposal. He held the model in his hands. He didn’t roll a tire under his thumb or see if the doors opened or check if it had a license plate that said something special, though -- he just held it.</p><p>And when he held it, it made Adam think about the first thing he bought himself: a Pontiac model, with a ten dollar gift card that his grandmother had sent him. He’d been so proud of his first purchase, it almost didn’t occur to him that even that had been a <em> gift</em>. Why did he just accept the money? He couldn’t remember what the occasion was. He just remembered having the little plastic card, and he remembered it being <em> his, </em>and he remembered transforming it into a little plastic car, and that was his, too.</p><p>He was sure that that car was his first and last innocent possession, because Adam Parrish had issues with making things <em>his</em> if he didn’t work to earn them.</p><p>It made him wonder: had he worked for <em> this </em>? Had he worked for the privilege -- not right -- to spend an indefinite amount of his winter break in Ronan’s childhood home, despite the fact that it was clearly a place teeming with unpacked emotional baggage? Had he earned the green light to barge into his room, after Ronan said that he couldn’t even bring himself to walk into it? Adam felt fuzzy around the edges. He stared so intently on the red car in his hands that it seemed blurry, too.</p><p>...He barely heard Ronan walk in behind him after an amount of minutes that Adam wouldn’t be able to correctly determine, even if his entire future -- and everything he’d worked for -- depended on it.</p><p>Adam turned around to find Ronan scanning the room, eyes dark and lips sealed and brows lowered. Then Ronan held his hand out to him.</p><p>
  <em> The bathroom. Adam ignoring his open hand. Walking with Gansey, because he couldn’t handle looking at Ronan, because being so close to him did things to his head and his heart that he couldn’t understand-- </em>
</p><p>Adam pressed the model car into it. Their fingers brushed.</p><p>(Had he earned that? The ability to touch him? Was that why it was so easy?)</p><p>Ronan turned the thing over in his hands, thumbs rolling the tires and fingers plucking open the door and eyes inspecting the license plate. All the things that Adam had refrained from doing, Ronan just did. Because he wanted to. </p><p>...Adam respected that.</p><p>Adam wanted to learn that.</p><hr/><p>Gansey heaved a great, shuddering breath. The first and only person who had heard the story in full retrospect was Ronan, which made Blue the second. He told her about the terrible summer day, with the terrible dinner party celebrating the Congress nomination of one of Mr. Gansey II’s friends, with the terrible game of hide-and-seek that drew him into the gorgeous woods bounding the backyard.</p><p>“I felt a bit old to be playing hide-and-seek,” he admitted, eyes closed and phone pressed firmly against his cheek, “but it was hide-and-seek or pointlessly hovering around Helen or one of my parents, and having strangers tell me about all of my potential.”</p><p>“I know what that’s like,” Blue said. “To have people <em> tell you </em> about <em> your </em>potential.”</p><p>“As if it’s not even yours.”</p><p>“...Exactly.”</p><p>There was quiet between them. An impossibly comfortable quiet. What day was it again? How was it still the evening of the dinner party?</p><p>“Okay. Keeping going,” she prompted.</p><p>And he did. He told her about the nest, he told her about the other kid trying to hide in the woods, he told her about how, if they found him a single second later, he’d have been a goner. He told her about everything that could have possibly gone wrong, but didn’t. If the ambulance came a second later, and all of the stop lights and cars on the road that could have cost him his life. If one more hornet had stung him. If, if, if.</p><p>“There were simply too many things that worked out in my favor for coincidences to exist,” Gansey mused, sighing. He rubbed his arms. No wasps. “Coincidences are remarkable accidents, so I suppose that it would be more accurate to say that I don’t believe in accidents.”</p><p>He could hear her breathing, slow and deep, as if she’d already fallen asleep -- for a moment, he thought that she did. Then, Blue’s voice washed away the feeling of his crawling skin, as it always did. </p><p>“So you think everything happens for a reason?”</p><p>“I like to.”</p><p>“Including,” she said, “or excluding meeting me?”</p><p>Gansey wished that she were closer, and not three hours away in Henrietta. Or rather, actually -- he wished that <em> he </em>were closer, and not three hours away in Washington.</p><p>“<em> Especially </em>including meeting you, Jane.”</p><hr/><p>When Ronan Lynch met Adam Parrish, he didn’t actually expect anything to come from their interaction.</p><p>When Ronan Lynch met Adam Parrish again, he knew that Gansey would try to befriend him, because Adam was the kind of person that Gansey would find interesting.</p><p>But, when Ronan Lynch met Adam Parrish <em> properly, </em>he saw someone who’d been starving to be wanted.</p><p>Ronan wondered what it would take for Adam to come to terms with that.</p><p>One of Adam’s hands -- still rough, still chapped, still perfectly calloused (no, Ronan didn’t regret giving him a medicated hand lotion) -- found Ronan’s hand in a slow, drawn-out blur, like a photograph with a long exposure light trail. He slowly looked up to meet Adam’s gaze.</p><p>Ronan didn’t breathe. Ronan didn’t blink. Ronan didn’t want to ever sleep again, because every dream of Adam was a disgusting mockery of the real thing.</p><p>He did, however, eventually pry his gaze away from Adam’s face to mess with the car that he was given. He remembered when Niall Lynch gave it to him after an especially long “business venture,” and Ronan remembered wanting a real car exactly like it. Now, though, he couldn’t imagine driving anything other than the charcoal BMW he’d inherited -- or stolen, as Declan liked to specify -- from their late father.</p><p>“I think I wanna go on a drive,” he said. Adam scandalized him with raised eyebrows.</p><p>“You just drove for three hours?”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“You drove at least eight today alone.”</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“I don’t think Blue would approve of your carbon footprint.”</p><p>“<em> And?” </em></p><p>Adam shook his head.</p><p>“Well,” Ronan said, putting the car down, “you can drive, if you’re so pressed about it.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>gah i'm sorry i'm still slow on updating :((( midterms are Kicking! My! Ass! but i've been adoring my creative writing classes and i'm so excited to keep practicing what i'm learning by writing this fic!!!</p><p>so so so much love to everyone still reading. somehow we are over 100k words and this rambly little writing project has gotten more attention than i thought it would!? so thank you! i can't tell you how much it means to me to have your support. i appreciate you all!!! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0039"><h2>39. i'm not guessing any less</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>kind of a filler chapter that sets up the next update, but i'm just trying to write again :')</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hi. oh my god. midterms are finally over. my junior yr of college has been wildly busy, i had s o much to do and i'm so sorry for not updating for so long!!!! thank you all for your patience, i hope you're all doing well!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The original plan was to stay in Henrietta with Ronan, just for the weekend, because he didn’t have work at the library during breaks -- the students who went to Warren Grey were too rich to </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to stay at school for holidays. Some certainly didn’t go home, but none of them stayed there. On top of that,  Adam’s schedule at the garage hadn’t been adjusted to how many more available hours he had without finals </span>
  <em>
    <span>or</span>
  </em>
  <span> a second job, though, which left him with a surprising amount of time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though it also left him without two biweekly paychecks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just the rest of the weekend with Ronan, then he’d head back to his apartment. Otherwise, he would have been paying rent for an empty place -- it would have been a waste to not live there, and Adam despised being wasteful. Then in a week, Adam would bus back into town for his court hearing. He’d come quietly and he’d leave quietly, and once all of his business was finally settled, he’d never have to come back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That had been the plan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been surprisingly easy to co-exist with Ronan at the Barns without the others around to buffer. A little tense, a little quiet, but not unbearable. The first evening he spent there, the same one as the Ganseys’ holiday-party-slash-benefactor’s-gala, Adam slept on one of the couches. Ronan, unsurprisingly, had slept on the other couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Adam was pretty sure that Ronan always slept on the couch when he visited his own home, given how the night they arrived was also the first time he’d gone into his childhood room. He wondered if Ronan felt like a guest to the farmhouse, despite having lived there before. Adam was familiar with the feeling, because it was how he felt about Robert Parrish’s double wide.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saturday melted away into a memory of a garden, a red tie, hand lotion. A farm, a red car. Hands. The BMW. A joyride.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then it was Sunday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On Sunday morning, Adam woke up to find Ronan still asleep -- with Chainsaw huddled between his arm and chest. The two were the most peaceful he’d ever seen them and Adam almost cracked a smile at the sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On Sunday morning, Adam justified the space he occupied by getting up early and wiping down tables and cleaning up around the place in general. He knew Ronan visited almost weekly, but everything in the farmhouse seemed to attract layers of dust like iron shavings to magnets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On Sunday morning, Adam made coffee with the grounds and the machine Gansey used when they visited the Barns for Thanksgiving. He seated himself at the breakfast table, glanced around at all of the photos on the walls, then used his laptop to look at bus tickets out of Henrietta.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On Sunday morning, Ronan rolled off of his couch and walked into the kitchen and scrubbed a hand down his face and had a cup of coffee, black. Something about the sight of his rumped shirt, collar askew and framing his collarbone, made Adam tighten his hand around the handle of his mug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(“Cold as balls,” Ronan muttered, slumping into the seat across from him. “Fucking broken heat, forgot the space heate. Shitty Henrietta winter.”)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was also on Sunday morning that Ronan said Adam could stay at the Barns until his hearing if he wanted to -- but only if he didn’t mind having to cross wires with his jerk older brother and not-jerk younger brother. He didn’t forget that he told Ronan about his court date, but overnight, eight days had become seven. Adam looked up at the pictures on the walls again. Three boys. Ronan’s siblings -- jerk older brother and not-jerk younger brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he looked back at Ronan, it was with a quirked brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, are you asking me to meet your family?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was almost a joke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ronan squinted at him, cold and critical. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam soothed his dry throat with a gulp of still-scalding coffee. It burned going down, of course, but not as much as the words that came up after it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess it’s fair,” he said. “Since you’ve already taken the liberty of introducing yourself to mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The humor in his voice was darker than the drink in Ronan’s cup. When the shitty joke finally landed, Ronan kicked him under the table and called him an asshole. Among various other, more explicit and insulting things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the second time on Sunday morning, despite himself, Adam almost smiled. He might have even almost laughed.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>There was that one saying about Christmas coming early, but since she hailed from a family that didn’t celebrate Christmas, Blue didn’t think much about it. To other people, though, 300 Fox Way’s “version” of “Christmas” did come “early.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On Sunday morning, Blue Sargent woke up to the women of Fox Way preparing for the Solstice. That evening would bring a New Moon, and though it wouldn’t be seen in the sky, Persephone and Jimi were preparing crystals to be reprogrammed and recharged, Calla was doing the same with her cards, and Maura was cooking something in the kitchen (something with butter, as always). That left Orla in the Phone/Sewing/Cat Room, twirling the cord of the landline around her finger as she took a client’s call.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m having a psychic moment,” she purred into the receiver. Blue cringed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In her haste to leave, she decided to scoop up one of the cats from the Phone/Sewing/Cat Room. She could only rescue one of them from Orla’s coquettish psychic hotline voice, and so it became her accomplice on her quest to bother her mother before the other women.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue liked cats well enough -- she grew up with them always in the house, after all. She also liked dogs, though -- she grew up walking them for other people, after all. Nonetheless, the feline she cradled in her arms was, either ironically or uncoincidentally or probably both, a Russian Blue named--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Cups,” Maura said, not looking up from the stove.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yup -- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cups</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me, or the cat?” Blue asked as she planted herself on one of the stools by the tiny island counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pshaw.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and your pshawing.” Maura paused just long enough to put a yogurt cup and a spoon in front of her. Blue snorted, her arms too full of Cups to have breakfast. “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pshaw,” Blue said again, just because. “Is Artemus coming for dinner?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Artemus, Artemus, Artemus -- Blue’s father. Who she’d only met once and only spent a couple of days with; who lived in some cabin in some woods and caused her mother to go missing for weeks. Blue still didn’t understand why Maura just upped and left the way she did. and the hours of sleep she lost were ones that she’d never get back, but Blue was too smart to hold a grudge for very long. Too sensible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Too busy with school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, though, she was home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I invited him,” Maura reported. “Do you want to see him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it terrible if I say that I don’t really care if I do, or if I don’t?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’d say it makes enough sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue pursed her lips. She scratched Cups behind an ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is Dean coming for dinner?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I invited him,” Maura reported. “Do you want to see him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She thought about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’d say so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are your friends coming for dinner?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue raised an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which ones?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adam,” Maura said, “‘the pretty one,’ as Calla called him. The other three.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue sighed. The first two were understandable for her to know, but ‘the other three’--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Psychics were exhausting sometimes, but Blue loved her family too much to ever be tired of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gansey is ‘the pretty one,’ but don’t take that statement out of context,” Blue reported back. “The other three are Ronan, Noah, and Henry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maura smiled back at her daughter. Blue had taken to petting Cups with a little more interest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are they like?”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>howdy, gang.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>my mother is inviting you all to dinner tonight</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Gansey ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>yes, for the winter solstice</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>but i’m not inviting you</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Gansey ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>…...You’re excluding me in specific?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Henry ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Astonishingly cold of you, Jane</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>aha</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>sucker</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>first of all: henry dont call me that</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>second of all: i mean ALL of you</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Henry ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Duly noted, Jane is a Richardman exclusive</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>wait :(</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>even me blue??</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>yes sorry noah :(</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>but hold on. everyone be quiet. listen to me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>shut up</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>anyway. before i was so rudely interrupted</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>i WILL kick you out of the convo</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>ahem.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>tonight is a no go, but i hereby permit you all to come over tomorrow night. fair?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>oh!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>oh!!!!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>yes ok :)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>the fuck is the difference</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>well your bad vibes are going to mess with how the crystals charge during the solstice tonight</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>ergo you cant come. says me</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>blue my vibes are immaculate what are ya talking about</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>ronan’s bad vibes. and i can’t exclude ronan because then he’ll forever withhold chainsaw time from me</em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>im not bringing my bird to your witch hut</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>that’s offensive. i resent you for that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>bring the bird as reparations or else</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>bRinG tHE bIrD aS rEpArATiOnS oR eLsE</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>is that a yes</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>yeah ok</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>nice.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>we do have cats though, by the way, but they’re tame</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>are you implying that my bird cant kick a bitch cats ass</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <span><em>chainsaw can but u probably can’</em>t</span>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>AW CATS</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>blue you never said that you had cats!!!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>then come over and meet them!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Gansey ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So sorry, catching up just now</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sounds lovely, Jane!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The day after tomorrow works well for me. And the rest of you?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>adam will come</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>hold on</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>where IS adam</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>oh?? worm?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Gansey ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...What is worm</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>worm</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Adam ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I didn’t say that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Gansey ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wait</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So you won’t come?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Adam ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>All I’m saying is that Ronan doesn’t speak for me</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>adam will come</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Henry ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Adam, any defense?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>he put down his phone</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>ohp</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>worm &lt;]:)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <em>see you guys tomorrow</em>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Gansey ]</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <em>Still terribly confused by "worm," Jane</em>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <em>worm</em>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <span><em>worm</em> </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Ronan looked up at Adam, who did, in fact, put down his phone and had gone back to hacking away at his laptop with its loud-ass fan. Ronan took a drink of his coffee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> coming, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam hesitated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. I was supposed to leave tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why, work?” Did he ever give himself a fuckin’ break?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam hesitated again, and Ronan could see that he was considering lying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he said. “Just because.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ronan folded his tongue over his teeth. “I said you could stay. I meant it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Adam responded, not looking up from his laptop screen. “You don’t lie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he’d remembered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...Ronan wondered what else Adam knew, noticed, and remembered about him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks. For last night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For opening the door, for coming over in the first place, for driving. For being around, even though he didn’t have to. Ronan told himself that Adam only stayed because he wanted to stay and that he wasn’t being forced to do anything -- but Ronan also had to be careful about not fooling himself into thinking </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘he wants to be around you’</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the same as </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘he wants you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, Adam did look up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna make me spell it out for you?” Ronan scowled. Adam’s expression was still that imperceptible blank slate -- but beneath the still surface of the water, Ronan knew what currents were churning and whipping. Adam Parrish was striking, but he was also more than that. Ronan could tell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam shook his head. “I just want to be sure that you’re thanking me for something unnecessary.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if I am?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I’d tell you not to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if I didn’t listen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you ever?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam took a breath, then looked back down at his laptop.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Over a brunch of eggs benedict served with smoked salmon and avocado, Gansey announced to his family that he’d be visiting his friends in Henrietta the next day. A three hour drive south from Washington.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Friends!” His father echoed, smiling a winning smile. “Isn’t that a first?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gansey knew he didn’t mean to be offensive, because it was true. For the longest time, it was only him and Ronan and his family knew that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If the weather permits, I can just fly you down,” Helen offered, lifting her mimosa in his direction. Things were better with her -- not that they were ever truly bad. Things had been a bit tense because of how stressed they both happened to be during the last evening’s event, but not bad. Most, if not all of it, had disappeared with a good night’s sleep. “Cuts a three hour drive to a-less-than-an-hour helicopter ride. I wouldn’t mind, anyhow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gansey thanked Helen and considered it, actually. As much as he loved the Pig, if the weather wasn’t in his favor, he’d only have a world of trouble. Of course, if the weather wasn’t in his beloved car’s favor, it likely wouldn’t be in favor of Helen’s helicopter. He pursed his lips, but before he could un-purse them--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can take the Suburban, if nothing else,” Mr. Gansey remarked, genuinely concerned. “I’d feel far better about you taking it on such a long drive, Dick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gansey managed to give his father a smile and, despite himself, welcomed the suggestion. It was more reliable than the Pig, who despised cold weather and was ever-capricious about when she wanted to run.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your friends, by-the-by,” Mrs. Gansey said, leaning forward with her fingers laced under her chin and her phone surprisingly out of sight. After an evening of meeting and greeting, Gansey suspected that she’d have plenty of contacts to follow up with, but he supposed that she was giving herself a break from politics. For once. “I regret not having been able to meet them. What were their names, again? How were they, did they enjoy themselves?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gansey blinked. He glanced at Helen, hoping to see if he could anticipate the direction of this conversation from her expression, but Helen only shrugged. Had word of Blue’s overt Democratic Socialism reached her? Was she upset? Or was she truly remorseful? Gansey, as good as he was with reading the nearly-imperceptible shifts in another Gansey’s demeanor, was at a loss. He righted his posture, just a smidge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve not forgotten Ronan, I’m sure. He’s doing well -- he’s able to visit the Barns now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Helen tipped her head. “Visit? Not live?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, he’s still at our apartment,” Gansey reported. “He’s unable to move in, fully, until his youngest brother is also 21, per their father’s will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That Niall Lynch,” Mr. Gansey mused, “a strange man, wasn’t he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God rest his soul,” Mrs. Gansey nodded somberly. Gansey looked elsewhere, and his mother seemed to notice, so she changed the subject. “The others, though. The ones you’ll be seeing tomorrow, tell us about them. I caught wind of a Bloom, I believe? A Blaire?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blue,” Gansey corrected, witholding a sigh that would have either come out as wistful, or ragged, or longing, or exhausted -- or perhaps all of the above, “her name is Blue.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hellloooOoOOOO thank you for continuing to read! i know my updates have been slower and that there wasn't a ton of content in this one, but. here's to shaking off the writing rust! i really can't tell you all how much i appreciate your patience, and i promise i will try to update regularly again! you're all The Best thank you thank you thank you</p><p>i will also say, however,,,, since i'm out of the writing groove, i'd love to know what kind of stuff/situations/tensions you guys want to read? :0 if you've been thinking abt the gangsey and have any thoughts, please feel free to drop 'em in the comments -- i would super appreciate the ideas :') i'm a lil lacking in the inspiration department but my motivation to write is making a return!!!!!</p><p>it's love, guys. take care of urselves.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0040"><h2>40. freezing winters out all day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>adam and ronan talk!! blue and gansey talk!!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>lots of love 2 ShesAkillllllllllllller for the idea of gansey + blue going to an antique store :-) u rock, friend!!! i love the Concept and will surely write a lil more for them in the next chapter (and also bring the whole gangsey there @ some point or another, ofc)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He asked if it would be alright if he came down a little earlier than the others -- and what was she supposed to say? “No, I’m busy doing absolutely nothing,” or “no, I don’t want to see you”?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, she could have. But doing so would have made her a liar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Gansey texted about having arrived at 300 Fox Way, Blue almost didn’t believe him -- the absence of the Pig’s eyesore orange and laborious engine noises outside of her house made her skeptical. He had been telling the truth, though, and she discovered this when she walked out of the powder blue townhouse with its “PSYCHIC SERVICES” sign to find one Richard Campbell Gansey III sitting in a massive, gleaming SUV.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ugh. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She squinted at him from the sidewalk as the driver’s window scrolled down. Lips twisted, Blue adjusted the strap of her self-crocheted bag over her shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s the Pig?” She demanded, in lieu of a proper greeting. It worked just fine, since Blue was not a proper girl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Regretfully, still in D.C.,” Gansey said, smiling dolefully. He patted the steering wheel without any emotion. “On the bright side, the Suburban has reliable air conditioning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue pulled her coat -- a patchwork of fabric and embroidery and knitted panels -- a little tighter around herself. The chilly air was especially cruel to the hair buzzed short at the nape of her neck. She thought about how she needed to ask Ronan to shave it again. Nonetheless: winter was growing more and more unforgiving, and though the promise of heat was comforting, Blue wasn’t a fan of how the Suburban made her feel small. The idea of walking through the cold, however, was worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The snow crunched under her boots as she walked around the hood with a huff. Blue climbed into the passenger seat and Gansey beamed at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like the Pig more,” she told him as she buckled up, then adjusted her gloves. She’d knitted them without fingers, so while they didn’t do a great job of keeping her hands warm, they certainly made her look cool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That makes two of us,” Gansey lamented -- still smiling at her, for some reason. She couldn’t help but crack a smile back. “But it’s nice to see you too, Jane.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue snorted. “Well, I didn’t say all that. And it’s only been two days since we last saw each other, you realize.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re implying that it’s not nice to see me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pshaw.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am inclined to take that as a ‘yes, it is, in fact, nice to see you.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, just drive, would you?” Blue said, reaching over to swat his arm. Gansey only laughed, and with far less trouble than he often had with the Pig, he started the car and peeled off into the road.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>hellooooo</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>what kind of food should we bring 2n</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>oh!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>well gansey and i can get nino’s so bring whatever else you guys want, i guess?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Adam ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You and Gansey?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&gt;:0</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&gt;:)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘,;)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>oh my god.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>yes, he’s already in henrietta.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>with u</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>right now</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>yep</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>he’s driving</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>kick him</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>i literally just said he’s DRIVING</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>yea? that’s why i said kick him??</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>get with the shits maggot</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>you’re the worst</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Adam ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s taking it as a compliment.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>how can u tell</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Adam ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s smirking at his phone</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>wow</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>fuck you</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Adam ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And now he’s flipping me off</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ] </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>cute :) it means he likes you :)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>fuck you also</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>tfti blue and gansey AND tfti ronan and adam</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>noah</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>you’re coming over in a couple hours</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>hah yeah i am!!! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>i’m just messin i promise</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>anyway, really.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>snack detail! what do we want</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>well, my aunt has pie</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>and we’re getting pizza</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>ooh</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>maybe ice cream then! maybe gelato</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Henry ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It is the middle of December</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>shit, you’re right :/</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>definitely gelato</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Henry ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As if there was ever really a choice</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>you get me</span>
  </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>There were a few differences between being at the Barns with Ronan in early November and being at the Barns with Ronan in late December. One thing was how much had happened (and hadn’t happened) between them over the course of the last month; another thing was how the snow kept them from spending much time outside. There were no garden boxes to clear, no leaves to rake up, no physical labor to occupy the excess of downtime.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Come to think of it, Adam couldn’t exactly remember the last time he had actual </span>
  <em>
    <span>downtime. </span>
  </em>
  <span>There was always homework to get ahead on, readings to do, study guides to make, notes to review -- so with finals said and done with, and the semester somehow already over…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam looked up from his laptop. He’d been sitting on a couch in the living room, pointlessly staring at his schedule for the next semester on the Warren Grey student portal. In front of him, the TV was off; a monstrosity of wires and dusty game consoles were stacked beneath and around it, alongside a shelf of tons of movies and CDs. His laptop screen told him that it was barely noon, which meant that there were, as she told Noah, still a couple more hours before they were expected at Blue’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was then that Ronan re-entered the living room. Adam looked up when he heard the floor creak with his steps, just in time to catch a wad of clothes that Ronan chucked at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Ronan and Blue had picked him up from his apartment, Adam hadn’t packed with the expectation of staying at the Barns. Unlike Blue, who had brought clothes to sustain her as she stayed with her family for winter break, Adam didn’t have any such plans. That meant that the only other clothes he had with him in Henrietta were the ones he wore on Saturday and the suit he’d changed into for the gala -- and he’d already reused his Saturday clothes on Sunday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His dilemma had either improved or worsened when Ronan had flippantly cussed him out for not just asking to borrow clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if it would have been that easy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(“We have a washer and a dryer here, dumbass,” Ronan had snapped just five minutes ago, right before he left Adam in the living room. “The fuck, man?”)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There,” Ronan said, once Adam had his clothes -- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ronan’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>clothes, Adam thought -- in his hands: a pair of black sweatpants and a dark gray shirt with some faded logo blazed across the front. They weren’t Adam’s usual type of clothes, but he was too conscious of what Ronan was doing for him to make a big deal out of it. Chainsaw just barely had time to screech and hop off of Ronan’s shoulder before Ronan flopped onto the other couch. “Change. Then you can throw your other shit in the wash.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I only have a few things.” Adam frowned at the clothes in front of him. Ronan’s. “I don’t want to waste a whole load of water.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus, then throw in some towels, or a blanket,” Ronan scoffed, already turning on the TV. “I don’t give a fuck.” Chainsaw made herself newly comfortable on his lap, the same way she had hunkered down on his chest when he slept on the couch. At first, Adam Parrish wouldn’t have ever pictured Ronan Lynch as the type to cuddle with a massive corvid -- but knowing him then, and looking at him then, it all made a surprising amount of sense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>...Adam eventually pried his eyes away from the two of them, set his laptop aside, and carefully gathered up the pants and the shirt in his arms. He stood up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Adam managed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever,” Ronan responded.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Left up here, onto Spruce,” Blue instructed from the passenger seat. Gansey didn’t know where she was directing them, but he was content with taking her guidance. He promptly turned on his left blinker and proceeded with the turn. Then she said, as if she’d read his mind: “I’m surprised you haven’t asked where you’re driving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gansey chuckled. “It occurred to me that I don’t know, but I’m not exactly bothered. Oddly enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oddly enough,” Blue echoed. She began to fiddle with the stereo controls on the dashboard, and within a few moments, she successfully connected her phone to the speakers. Gansey couldn’t recognize the artist, but the heavy guitars and the impassioned voice of the band’s frontwoman was irreocably </span>
  <em>
    <span>Blue</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “I’ll ask questions, then. Why didn’t you take the Pig?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My parents insisted otherwise,” Gansey said. “It didn’t seem like a terrible idea, given the current weather conditions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue hummed. Gansey supposed that he would take the risk of continuing to talk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My sister,” he started, then he corrected himself because Blue knew his sister, “Helen offered to fly me down. Her copter, and all that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Saying ‘copter’ instead of ‘helicopter’ does not make it any more of a casual or common thing to own, Gansey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned despite himself. “Ah, well. I tried.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suggest that you stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...Gansey blinked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beg pardon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop trying,” Blue said, as if it were something as plain as calling the sky blue or grass green or the sun hot. “I think I like you better when you’re not trying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gansey still struggled to follow. He furrowed his brow, just slightly, and stole a glance at her. “When I’m not trying to do what, exactly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue sighed something laborious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep going down this road, but you’ll turn left in a bit,” she said, rather than answering. “How’s your sister doing, Gansey?”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Adam needed clothes, Ronan lent him some. It was as simple as that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...But also, somehow, for some dumb fucking reason, it was not that simple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over the sound of the random television movie that Ronan didn’t actually care about, he heard the washer start to fill up with water. Then the floor creaked, and Adam returned to the living room, and Ronan--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It just wasn’t fucking fair, how easily he pulled off a simple old t-shirt and a pair of sweats. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the span of one weekend, Ronan saw Adam in two very different outfits: one was a suit, one was borrowed lounge clothes. He didn’t know which one looked better on him, so he decided not to have an opinion to begin with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ronan looked back at the TV, then he considered bothering Gansey for his ETA into Henrietta, then he resolved to just humor Chainsaw with attention. At the same time, Adam settled back onto the other couch in the living room -- but he didn’t pick his laptop back up. He did, however, tug at the collar of his shirt. Of Ronan’s shirt. The shirt that was Ronan’s, but was being worn by Adam.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this a band shirt?” Adam asked, cutting into the silence. Ronan tipped his head over at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t know it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam’s expression was amused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah. I don’t listen to electronica.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sucks for you, ‘cause it’s kickass. Gansey hates it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam’s expression hinted at an almost-laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that the only reason you like it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. But it helps.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Instigator, much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wrong. Gans prefers to call me a ‘dastardly rabble-rouser.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That time -- that time, Adam </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> laugh. It was a quiet snicker, but it counted, and it was better music than anything else in the world. Ronan grinned something gently savage and gently proud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You two are close,” Adam said. “Friends since high school?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’been a weird ass…” He trailed off, counting the years in his head. “Fuck, seven years? Jesus shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam whistled. “That’s a lot of Gansey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t say he was?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It felt implied,” Ronan shrugged. “But he really isn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam looked up at the ceiling, and Ronan knew this because he dared to glance over in his direction. “You know, you’re not either,” he said, sounding bemused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ronan barked a laugh in hopes of overriding the way his cheeks warmed. “Right, whatever you fuckin’ say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Adam said, turning to face him -- his eyes were blue, blue, blue. Ronan’s throat felt dry. “Really, Lynch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...He wondered what made Adam think so. The run-in he had with his shitty excuse of father, nearly a whole month ago? The way he was letting him stay at the Barns? Ronan didn’t really know, and though he probably should have cared, he didn’t want to overthink it. That was Gansey’s area of expertise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he did think about what it was that made Adam choose to stay. Since Henrietta made him feel ‘miserable’ and ‘stuck.’ Though Adam had a good reason to feel that way, Ronan couldn’t imagine the place being anything other than </span>
  <em>
    <span>home.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>When Ronan didn’t respond, Adam spoke again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m surprised that you haven’t just moved in,” he said. “You’re not a student at Warren.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ronan’s smile was a bitter thing. Where Ronan didn’t have much to say, the truth sufficed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t do that ‘til my younger brother turns fuckin’ twenty-one. Bullshit clause in our dad’s will.” He coasted the back of his hand over Chainsaw’s feathers. “Whatever. I’m not bailing on Gansey, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam frowned. “I don’t get it. What does him not being twenty-one really mean, if you’re already...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck if I know. Fuck if I actually understood shit about him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ronan watched Adam turn his gaze to look at the pictures on the wall instead of the TV. He wet his lips, and so Ronan looked away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daddy issues?” Adam eventually said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ronan nearly cackled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A metric shit ton to go around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got my own, thanks,” Adam (finally?) admitted (readmitted?). Then, hesitantly -- a little quietly: “I don’t need you to share, but you can. If you ever wanted to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it was then that he realized just how much he knew about Adam, and just how much Adam didn’t know about him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The problem, of course, was the way that the name </span>
  <em>
    <span>Niall </span>
  </em>
  <span>was a poison on his tongue. Like the words </span>
  <em>
    <span>tire iron </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>murder </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>business.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Ronan closed his eyes, feeling heavy. He’d been reckless and bold on Saturday night -- he tried to force his way in through Adam, tried to pry answers out of him. It was fucking hypocritical, now that he had the chance to think about it. How could he expect Adam to want to talk about something as stupid as </span>
  <span>feelings</span>
  <span> if Ronan himself was so unwilling? Letting him into the Barns was almost the same as letting him in entirely, but only to Ronan, because Adam didn’t know anything else. Gansey knew things, because he was Gansey, but shit -- even Blue knew more about his family. He’d told her about his mother’s car crash, about her indefinite coma.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ronan scraped his tongue under his teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam didn’t know a thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ronan knew Fuckhead Parrish Senior beat him, and he knew that Adam’s mother didn’t seem to give two fucks about it, but Adam didn’t know a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> about Ronan’s family beyond the photographs -- Kodak moments immortalized behind glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...Adam was smart, though, so Ronan knew that he had to have suspicions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed through his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fair is fair, I goddamn guess,” Ronan grumbled under his breath, steeling himself for the admission that he’d been avoiding for so long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam only blinked, but when he turned to face Ronan a little more, it stopped feeling like winter.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Per Blue’s instructions, Gansey pulled into the parking lot in front of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Henrietta Antique </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Mall.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It was an older warehouse-looking building with a weather-damaged sign and there were only a couple other cars in the lot, but Blue didn’t love the place any less for it. She shucked off her bulky coat before hopping out of the Suburban, and once Gansey joined her, she took it upon herself to hold the store’s door open for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Much obliged,” he said as he passed, with a gloved hand to his chest and a smile on his face. Blue snorted. Rather than respond to him, though, she greeted the old woman at the front counter on their way in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever been to one of these?” Blue asked, having taken point on walking them deeper into the store. Booths and stalls and cubicle-type segments made rows throughout the entire building, each numbered, each stocked with a different assortment of objects and clothes and knick knacks. She paused at a jar of buttons on a counter, then peeked into a box of embroidered patches, before glancing at Gansey over her shoulder. As she suspected, he was taking in the place with wide eyes and an expression of wonder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To an antique mall? Plenty of times, yes,” he said, “but this one is particularly charming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before, Blue probably would have found his use of the word ‘charming’ offensive and belittling. Now, Blue knew that he genuinely meant it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you’d like it. She hummed and stepped past him to check out another booth. Some of them had comics, another one was all vintage clothes, one was action figures and stuffed toys -- booth after stall after corner had its own assortment of wares. Old Troll dolls and novelty lamps, tea sets and salt shakers shaped like vegetables -- vintage cameras not too unlike the one Henry got her, fancy candle holders, books and clocks and jars--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue picked up a sword-shaped pen lodged into a stone-shaped holder, and when she turned to show it to Gansey, he had also spun around with a tree knick knack with a mirror embedded into the trunk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excalibur,” she grinned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excelsior,” he grinned back. Gansey’s eyes lit up with the rest of his face and Blue laughed, brightly and warmly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This -- this was the Gansey that she befriended. Not whoever greeted them up in Washington, with his fancy tie and his garage of cars and literal mansion. This Gansey, the one who was beyond invested in dusty antiques and vintage toys, the one who remembered how much she liked trees and wore thick glasses -- this was her favorite Gansey. He held his hand out for the sword in the stone, so Blue traded him for the mirror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s real neat,” she remarked, inspecting herself in the mirror. She reached into her bag, and when she found her lip balm, she used the mirror to apply a generous layer to winter-chapped lips. “I think it’s supposed to be a redwood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...He didn’t say anything back, and when she looked up from the mirror, she found him staring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amused at his expense, Blue capped her chapstick, put it away, and raised an eyebrow at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I help you, Gansey?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sputtered just a bit and fidgeted with the curio she passed to him. Then, after a second more, he shifted the Excalibur pen model to one hand, and patted down the pocket of his coat with the other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just -- forgot, is all,” Gansey said. “That I meant to give this back to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From his pocket, he produced a little tube -- more lip balm, she realized. He was offering it to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue accepted it with still-cold fingers, left exposed by her fingerless gloves, and rolled it between her thumb and index. Brow furrowed, Blue scrutinized it. Mint. Why did--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gansey shifted his weight, clearly a little sheepish. Endearingly sheepish. “From the night that you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Blue said, because she did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lent it to him the night that he took her on a drive -- the night that she had that dream. Of him. Of kissing him. Of him falling from her arms and--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The same way she’d forgotten about the lip balm, she’d forgotten to talk to her mother about her dream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue steadied herself with a breath, banished the bad dream from her memory (Gansey was standing right in front of her, perfectly alive and clearly breathing, after all), and held the chapstick back out to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can keep it,” she insisted, even though Gansey could surely afford his own lip balm. “Mint is your thing, anyway. And you clearly need to be using it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could catch onto the fact that yes, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>noticed his mouth, Blue shuffled deeper into the antique mall, tree mirror still in her hands.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>yeehaw my dudes! thank u all once again for ur patience -- and continued interest :') it means so much to me! three months ago, this fic started out very loosely &amp; just as a place for me to be Emo about the gangsey -- i didn't think it would get this much love or let me connect with so many of you wonderful people, so i am immensely appreciative for every second that you guys spend reading and commenting and chatting with me. it's all love!!! you're all wonderful! &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0041"><h2>41. hope, you're such a beauty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>pynch + bluesey continued &gt;:)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Jesus</em> <em>Christ, </em>he thought, which was strange, because he wasn’t a religious person. </p><p>“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, which was even stranger, because he usually filtered his words through his thoughts much more than that. </p><p>Ronan’s bluntness had sent him reeling, though, so Adam figured that it wasn’t unreasonable for him to be so thrown. With furrowed brows and his hands folded in his lap, Adam stared down a photo of Niall Lynch from across the room. </p><p>A tire iron.</p><p>A tire iron.</p><p><em> A tire iron</em>. </p><p>Adam would never be able to handle one again without thinking of Ronan.</p><p>“And after that ass-ripping nightmare, it wasn’t hard t’figure out why we moved to the city. I mean, everything happened ‘cause he did some reckless fuckshit, but leaving the Barns,” Ronan went on, wearing an oddly savage grin that was both perfectly matching and horribly disjointed from the tone of his story, “clearly didn’t help him avoid goddamn squat.”</p><p>Adam had been listening like he was in a lecture. He took notes in his head like he was in a lecture. He even asked questions like he was in a lecture.</p><p>“If he got caught, how are you still rich?”</p><p>“He didn’t get <em> caught, </em> he got <em> murdered,” </em>Ronan said plainly. “The shady business shit he did, he was damn good at it. Every financial base got covered, Declan said. ‘They’ just found him anyway, and since jackshit could be done about the money...” He knocked his knuckles against his temple and huffed a note of sharp laughter. “They ‘used his head.’”</p><p>A tire iron. A tire iron.<em> A tire iron. </em>Adam wrinkled his nose with distaste. It wasn’t as funny as Ronan seemed to think it was, but Adam figured that he was deflecting, which was fair enough. </p><p>“Well, that wasn’t fantastically morbid at all,” Adam replied.</p><p>“Whatever, Gansey,” Ronan sneered.</p><p>“...And your mother now?” Adam didn’t say ‘Aurora’ because he knew her name from the garden planters, not because Ronan told it to him. But when Ronan actually seemed to falter at that question, it gave Adam a clear glimpse past the already-parting curtains, the already-lowering walls.</p><p>“She’s not dead,” he said after a moment, “but she’s not alive, either.”</p><p>It was knives in Adam’s chest.</p><p>He dragged a hand down his face. Even though Adam didn’t know what it was like to love your mother, he could tell that Ronan did. Just like Blue. Adam opened his mouth--</p><p>“I don’t wanna hear you fuckin’ apologize, if that’s what you’re about to do,” Ronan snapped.</p><p>So Adam pursed his lips, and he thought. </p><p>What would Gansey say? He supposed it didn’t really matter since he wasn’t Gansey, and the only part of Adam that wanted to be him was an ugly and envious ache that he’d never admit to harboring inside of him. But that didn’t change how Gansey would know what to say (probably) to get through to Ronan (probably), because Gansey knew all of this about Ronan already (probably) -- his dad’s murder, how Ronan found his still-warm body, his mother’s car accident, her coma, his father’s will--</p><p>...After a moment, instead of trying to summon Gansey, Adam decided to just be honest.</p><p>“If not that, then I don’t know what else to say,” he said, simply and frankly. If he looked at Ronan again, he knew that Ronan might have taken it as pity -- but where else was he supposed to look? He stared at Niall, then at Chainsaw--</p><p>Then eventually and finally, because the gravity was just too strong to fight, back at Ronan.</p><p>Ronan clicked his tongue. Voice cold, he said, “How about nothing?”</p><p>Adam didn’t look away, but he did stay quiet.</p><p>There were only a few fine differences between Ronan and the photo of Niall that he’d been studying. They almost had the same sort of ferocious and sharp and belligerent eyes. Almost. While Niall’s eyes looked like they were hiding secrets, when Adam <em> really </em>looked at Ronan, he found that his eyes looked like--</p><p>Like they were hiding hurt.</p><p>Adam’s hands were still a little buttery from the last time he’d put on the lotion Ronan gave him. He rubbed them together, trying to generate some semblance of heat in the face of the fatal chill that settled into the room. He remembered November behind the farmhouse, when the two of them and Noah were weeding planters -- he remembered Ronan saying “<em>he” </em> probably deserved “<em>it.” </em> Adam remembered how, that night, his mind kept moving from school and work back to Ronan. He remembered how he couldn’t stop wondering: who was “<em>he” </em> and what was “<em>it”? </em></p><p>And now he knew.</p><p>And he didn’t know if knowing made things better or worse.</p><hr/><p>Silly as it was, Gansey felt proud and touched about how Blue hadn’t put down the tree mirror. That made it only natural for him to hold onto the Excalibur pen and stone as they roamed the rest of the antique mall. Blue led them from booth to booth, and with their free hands, they picked up teapots and vinyls and odd paperweights and desk clocks to show one another. </p><p>And really, there was something absurdly rewarding about seeing her smile at him whenever he said something like <em> “now would you look at this” </em> or <em> “how peculiar, don’t you think” </em> or <em> “Oh, Jane!” </em>For all the words he had at his disposal, it felt nearly impossible to string together ones that properly communicated how pleased he was to be in her company. </p><p>How pleased he was to be the one making her smile.</p><p>“This reminds me of Ronan.” Blue pointed at what seemed to be a bird skull mounted on a polish wooden plaque. Gansey agreed.</p><p>“Noah?” Gansey submitted, holding up a bin of Tech Decks, still in their original packaging. They weren’t antiques, and the manufacturing date on them declared that they were just barely old enough to be considered vintage, but that’s what Gansey found so charming about antique malls: it was impossible to predict what could be found. Blue rifled through them with him, and together, they picked out a dark blue fingerboard with a skull sticker on it. The most ‘Noah’ one in the group.</p><p>“We might as well get it for him,” Blue said. “Christmas, or whatever. But we have to pick stuff out for everyone else.”</p><p>Gansey tipped his head at her and smiled. “Or ‘whatever,’ you say?”</p><p>“Or whatever, I say,” she confirmed, walking around the rest of the corner they were shopping through. “I don’t celebrate, remember?”</p><p>“Ah, right. Speaking of -- the solstice. How was it?”</p><p>“Bright. It was nice. And as normal as things get over there.”</p><p>“So things with your mother…” He trailed off. Gansey didn’t mean to overstep or be intrusive -- he was simply curious. Though such conversations weren’t foreign to them, they were usually had over the phone, which made in-person interaction a bit different. “And your father? They’re well?”</p><p>She shrugged. “They’re better? Good? I don’t know. He came over, too, and it wasn’t awfully uncomfortable, or anything. Thinking about it doesn’t make me existential anymore, either.” She picked up a little Hot Wheels toy, inspected it, then put it down and led them to another booth. “What about with <em> your </em>family?”</p><p>“Ever diplomatic, all of us,” he reported. Then, after a moment, he took a risk: “My mother asked about you, actually.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah?” Blue looked at him from over her shoulder. He was momentarily transfixed by the way the short locks of her hair whipped around her head. “<em>Well? </em> What did you say?”</p><p>He smiled faintly. “Good things only, I promise.”</p><p>“That’s lame. What, I’m not banished from Washington for what I said on Saturday?”</p><p>“To be fair, you hardly did a lick of real damage.”</p><p>“That means I didn’t try hard enough. Damn it.”</p><p>Despite himself, Gansey managed a chuckle.</p><p>(He remembered how close they were just after their argument, when Blue was holding his tie and glaring up at him.)</p><p>“Well, I <em> can </em> say that they’d love to have you for a proper dinner,” he said. “Helen, too.”</p><p>“That’s weird.”</p><p>“How so?”</p><p>“I really don’t think I have to explain that one to you.” Blue rolled her eyes. </p><p>“Does that mean you’re not interested?”</p><p>“I’ll think about it. How about that?”</p><p>“Fair enough.”</p><p>“You’re really not going to tell me if anything unkind was said, are you?”</p><p>Gansey’s smile was sheepish. He thumbed through some old records. “There’s nothing to be said. Everything was positive, and it was nothing that you don’t already know about yourself, Jane.”</p><p>She stopped looking through a drawer of trinkets to peer at him.</p><p>“...You used the word ‘remarkable,’ didn’t you?”</p><p>Gansey sputtered. “Wh--how did you--”</p><p>Blue laughed and she tossed her head back, just a bit. “Because you’re <em> predictable</em>, Gansey. It’s a very ‘you’ word.”</p><p>“Is that so?” Now flustered in a different sense of the word, Gansey smiled. “Does that mean you find me remarkable, as well?”</p><p>“I did not say that,” she countered, pointing at him with a brass tea-stirring spoon. </p><p>“It felt suggested! But quite frankly, it’s a bit scathing to know you think so poorly of me. That’s rather cruel, Jane.”</p><p>“Well, you can go on and cry about it. All I meant is that I didn’t use that word in my conversation with my mom.”</p><p>Gansey’s heart fluttered when he sorted out the implication of her words. She had also talked about him? What were the odds that they both did? His smile broadened, and though ancient things usually held his attention unlike anything else, the only oddity on his mind was one Blue Sargent.</p><p>“You spoke of me to your mother, too?” He said, a bit baffled and more than a bit honored. He hadn’t met Maura -- just the other women of Blue’s household. Then he had the dim, if a bit startling, realization that he’d be meeting her shortly.</p><p>“Don’t flatter yourself,” she snorted, drawing him out of his thoughts, the way she always did, “I talked about all five of you. Six, if you include Ronan as an entity separate from Chainsaw, and not just a sidecar situation.”</p><p>Gansey laughed brightly. “Jane,” he scandalized. “Once again -- rather cruel.”</p><p>“Pshaw. He knows I like Chainsaw.”</p><p>Gansey’s cheerful expression widened with the knowledge that she considered them <em> all </em> important enough to be talked about. His only experience with friend groups was limited to parties of two -- three, if corvids counted. Now, he had a party of six -- seven, if corvids counted. It made him giddy; it made him feel <em> alive.  </em></p><p>“Well,” he said, “I’m assuming you won’t be telling me what you said to your mother either?”</p><p>With the slyest of smiles, Blue raised a leather satchel up to him and changed the topic. “Book bag for Adam, what do you think?”</p><hr/><p>Adam knew almost as much as Gansey did<em>. </em></p><p>The words had spouted out of his mouth without much difficulty. Like a broken dam. Like a crack in a water tank. They had escaped him like a dream from memory: frighteningly easy. The heavy weight of his history had left Ronan’s shoulders, only to drop back onto his chest as he waded through the emotional aftermath. Recalling the details, answering Adam’s questions -- it all left him tired but restless and sober but dizzy and solemn but furious and aching but numb--</p><p>And Jesus, Mary, Joseph -- Adam <em> knew</em>.</p><p>The Barns were so big, the farmhouse was so stifling. He needed to visit his mom. He needed to text Matthew back. He needed a drive, he needed a drink, he needed to throw a punch, he needed Gansey, he needed -- sleep, maybe. Ronan would have been bouncing his knee, if not for the fact that Chainsaw was hunkered down in his lap. </p><p>What was Adam even thinking? It was impossible to say, because Adam’s expression was so… Thoughtful. It was always thoughtful. Ronan couldn’t imagine how much was happening behind his eyes, calculating and quiet and observant. He knew that it should have been easy to feel scrutinized when he was pouring his goddamn guts out to someone like Adam, but instead of feeling judged, part of him felt--</p><p><em> Seen? </em>Was that it? Or was that just some bullshit the maggot droned on about the last time they were all drunk together?</p><p>He didn’t know. He didn’t care. But it was the same feeling, deep in the seat of his chest, that he got whenever he and Gansey both stayed up ‘til five in the morning. The same feeling he felt briefly stabbed with whenever he hung out with Sargent, one on one. The same feeling that surprised him when he received Noah’s gift of a framed photo and Sharpies and cassettes. </p><p>Adam hadn’t looked away, and he hadn’t looked away for a long time.</p><p>There was at least three feet of distance between them on the couch. Before, it felt like an ocean. Now--</p><p>Somehow, it almost felt like nothing. </p><p>Ronan wished it was actually nothing. </p><p>“Thank you,” Adam finally said. </p><p>Ronan squinted at him.</p><p>“Pretty sure I told you not to do that, dickweed.”</p><p>“For being vulnerable,” he insisted. “That was -- heavy. And you shared anyway.”</p><p>“Oh, Christ. Oh, fucking Lord. I was leveling the playing field, asshole, not being <em> vulnerable.” </em></p><p>“Technically, it was both?”</p><p>“Just shut the fuck up, Parrish.”</p><p>“I’m trying to be nice to you<em>, </em> you know.”</p><p>“I do know, and it’s annoying as shit. Fucking hell.”</p><p>Adam went silent for a moment. Then, with his head tipped and his dusky lashes fanning over his dream-blue eyes and no contempt in his voice:</p><p>“You’re bizarre, Lynch. ‘Leveling the playing field’?”</p><p>“I said ‘fair is fair,’” he grumbled. “I knew your bullshit baggage. Now you know mine. Makes us even, since you give such a fuck about that kind of thing.”</p><p>Adam wet his lips. </p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“‘<em>What do you mean</em>,’” Ronan echoed derisively. Did he think that he was subtle about it? Or -- or did he think that people didn’t care enough to notice? Given his old home life… Ronan might have banked on the latter. “Up yours, man. You know what I mean. You didn’t let Gansey pay for shit. You said you owed me. Blah, blah, blah.”</p><p>“That’s…” Adam shook his head. “That’s kind of surprisingly astute of you.”</p><p>“Fuck you, you’re not exactly a closed book.”</p><p>“Wow, you know how to read? Did Gansey teach you?”</p><p>Ronan was momentarily stunned by Adam’s barb. When it finally registered, Ronan scoffed -- but actually, he was thankful for the tone shift. Adam’s insult was comforting, not offensive. It was normal. It wasn’t the black tar of feelings and memories that made him feel sluggish and restless at the same time.</p><p>He breathed.</p><p>“Read <em> this, </em>fucker--” </p><p>Ronan grabbed one of the throw pillows from his side and slung it at Adam, who raised his hands to catch it. Chainsaw screeched at the disturbance, though, so Ronan told her to stop whining. Adam sided with the bird and Ronan called them both traitors, then Adam threw the pillow back at him, so Chainsaw complained loudly as she abandoned Ronan’s lap, Ronan cussed, Adam remarked that it was a bold new string of expletive--</p><p>Adam knew almost as much as Gansey did.</p><p>(And yeah. <em> Yeah. </em> Yes -- it made things better.)</p><hr/><p>With a leather cross-body bag over her shoulder and a tree mirror in one hand, Blue knew that she was having a successful antique mall trip -- but with how much Gansey was observing her rather than all the stuff waiting to be browsed through, she didn’t know if she could say the same for him.</p><p>“You keep staring at me,” Blue pointed out, as casual as could be while she lifted herself to her toes to see what was on the taller shelves in someone’s booth. “And I’m not sure why, because staring at me means you’re not helping me find presents for Ronan and Henry.”</p><p>When she glanced over at him, she found his face tinged pink -- and it wasn’t because of the cold. </p><p>Blue grinned when he sharply turned around to investigate something elsewhere.</p><p>“I am absolutely helping,” he protested. “Lies and slander are unbecoming of you, Jane.”</p><p>“If by ‘helping,’ you mean turning down all of the cool stuff I’m finding, then yes, totally -- you’re helping tons.”</p><p>“Listen. I just don’t think it is a wise idea to get Ronan a Swiss Army knife.”</p><p>“Well, you say that as if he probably doesn’t already have one. They’re useful!</p><p>“They’re also knives,” he said, coming up to stand beside her as she went through a tray of odds and ends.</p><p>“What’s wrong with knives?” Blue argued. “I used to have a knife, you know.”</p><p>“Ah, and if I recall correctly, said knife was a switchblade that was confiscated by the police when you got arrested,” Gansey pointed out. When Blue looked up and over at him, she found that he had an awful, terrible, infuriatingly smug sort of look on his face. She was glad that he was close -- it gave her a perfect opportunity to dig her elbow into his ribs.</p><p>“Shove off,” Blue snipped at him, but he only laughed.</p><p>“It’s the truth,” he said. “Albeit a distant one. Good grief -- how many months ago was that?”</p><p>She snorted. “Well, I was arrested at the end of September, so… Almost three months?”</p><p>Oh.</p><p>Wow.</p><p>The same sort of surprise that overcame her when they were leaving Washington swept through her again. Somehow, three months had gone by -- just like that. She survived her first semester at Warren Grey, she befriended Gansey and Ronan and Noah and Henry, she reconnected with Adam, she <em> met her birth father </em>--</p><p>Blue rolled a loose marble between her fingers and wondered if there was something big enough out there that could do the same thing to Earth. Gansey had whistled low.</p><p>“Three months,” he repeated. “It’s difficult to believe.”</p><p>Blue’s mouth twitched into a fleeting smile as she regarded him. Three months had elapsed and Gansey had gone from somebody she found downright insufferable to somebody mildly tolerable.</p><p>...Well, usually tolerable.</p><p>He had his moments.</p><p>“Hard to believe that three months has gone by?” Blue asked. “Agreed.”</p><p>But Gansey shook his head. </p><p>“No, actually. It’s difficult to believe that I have notknown you -- all of you -- for my entire life. Now I know this will sound a bit strange," he said, then a bit more quietly, “but it somehow feels as though I always have.”<br/><br/>Blue set down the marble. Opposite to the way she jabbed him with her elbow, she good-naturedly knocked her arm against his.<br/><br/>"You wanna know what?" She asked, looking up at him again. She swept some hair out of her face, too. His smile was soft. He needed chapstick.</p><p>"Always, from you," he said.</p><p>"I've heard stranger."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>yeehaw my dudes! i meant to get this done yesterday, but here it is!! your support has been so overwhelming recently, it genuinely just... it makes me really happy, guys. :'))) i constantly check my email because every time i get a new comment or kudos, i just -- it lights up my whole day! i'm so very thankful for each and every single one of you and i hope that i am able to inspire as much joy in you as you all do in me. thank you for being such wonderful people and 4 existing! &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0042"><h2>42. of little words</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>gangsey at fox way part numero uno &lt;]B)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Noah’s Mustang was already parked on the curb when they made it back to Blue’s house, and upon noticing, she practically dove out of the Suburban without anything more than a mournful “oh no.” Gansey didn’t have enough time to even <em> start </em> to say “Jane” before she was rushing towards the porch, just as he hardly managed to gather up their things from the back seat before she was throwing herself inside.</p><p>He, of course, was unbothered. In anything, her absence left him with a good moment to take in the faded blue paint -- the tumbledown “PSYCHIC SERVICES” signs -- the barren trees and winter-wilted flowers and the <em> everything -- </em>of 300 Fox Way. There were shingles missing from the edges of the snowy roof; there were patches of dry yellow grass peeking out of the snow on the ground. The porch creaked, the “300” nailed to the house was weathered brass, none of the windows had the same curtains--</p><p>It was nothing like his parents’ place in Washington, and Gansey adored it.</p><p>With three pizzas from Nino’s and a bag (Blue’s, reusable canvas, hand-painted with various specimens of fungus) full of objects from Henrietta Antique Mall, Gansey stepped up to the door that had been left ajar in her wake. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, for the idea of letting himself inside her home sat strangely with him, even though he’d come with her. But then, as if on cue--</p><p>The door properly swung open. A woman with a platinum nimbus of hair fluffed out about the crown of her head greeted him with a mild voice and a mild smile -- Persephone, if he recalled correctly. Not that he could so easily forget. When Gansey had first met her, as well as the other women of Fox Way, it was because he’d dropped Blue off all that time ago. They told her about her mother’s disappearance, there was pie and befuddling remarks that left firecrackers in his chest, he saw Blue’s room, he held her in a warm embrace on her bed..</p><p>Jesus. <em> Jesus</em>, he needed to get out of his head. He needed to stop thinking about holding Blue, and sweeping her hair out of her face, and kissing her forehead and wrapping her up in his coat and setting his chin on her head and--</p><p>“Hello,” Persephone said, hands neatly folded in front of her. “Again.”</p><p>His posture immediately righted itself. That was right: though he already knew Persephone and Calla, he’d likely be meeting Maura for the first time, wouldn’t he? Goodness. Good grief. He’d almost forgotten about that detail during the drive; he’d been terribly invested in Blue’s explanation of the riot grrrl movement and genre.</p><p>“It’s a pleasure to see you again,” Gansey responded, honestly and politely. He dipped his head. “Thank you -- for having the group of us over. I hope our presences won’t be too disruptive.”</p><p>She merely squinted at him, then tipped her head. </p><p>He swallowed thickly under her studious gaze, thinking that her eyes reminded him a bit of Adam’s.</p><p>“How curious,” she said. “You are not too different, alive like this.” </p><hr/><p>When Noah showed up to find Blue and Gansey still out, he decided to knock anyway. The signs <em> did </em>say to do so, if you wanted a psychic reading. And, since the people giving them were Blue’s family, he figured -- why not? He rang the doorbell, met Blue’s mother and aunts and cousin, was invited inside for a tarot card session, also met her family’s cats--</p><p>“Noah? Noah!” </p><p>--and very shortly after sitting down, heard Blue get home.</p><p>”Blue!” He snapped his head towards the doorway of what Orla had called the “reading room,” but the grey cat in his lap kept him from getting out of his seat to greet her as she walked in.</p><p>“Blue,” Orla said, the way someone might say <em> you’re interrupting. </em></p><p>“Orla,” Blue said, the way someone might say <em> yup, I know. </em></p><p>“Noah,” Noah said, grinning and throwing up a rock’n’roll sign. </p><p>(He thought it was pretty funny, but the other two people in the room? Not as much.)</p><p>Orla shuffled the tarot cards she had yet to deal him. “I’m in the middle of a reading. It’s unprofessional to interrupt sessions, you know this.”</p><p>“Good thing I’m not a professional psychic, then,” Blue retorted. Turning to him, she nodded towards the hallway. “Sorry you beat us here, but you realize that you didn’t need to be a <em>client</em> to have come inside, right?”</p><p>...He was pretty sure that he was telling her that he didn’t need to pay anything to be welcome in her home, or something like that. He shrugged.</p><p>“Well, sure,” Noah said, “but I mean, I do want one. Where else can I find a legit, friend-vetted psychic, right?”</p><p>“Uh, in every room of this house,” she deadpanned.</p><p>“And plenty of other places, if you know where to look,” Orla said, flipping her hair. “Nowhere as good as Henrietta, though.”</p><p>Noah looked at Blue. He’d missed her and her choppy hair and funky clothes and sour expressions -- it had only been two days since they saw each other last, but when school had been in session, it was rare that anyone in their little group <em> didn’t </em> at least catch one another in passing on the daily. If not breakfast or lunch or dinner, then coffee before classes; if not a study session, then a wave across campus. Their schedules and routines were full of overlap, and as the semester had gone on, they only became more and more tangled. </p><p>Since their semester break had only just begun, it was strange to think that he was already excited about classes starting up again, but Noah <em> was </em>stoked. School meant friends, and friends meant everything.</p><p>At least, he wanted them to mean everything.</p><p>“S’cool,” he assured her, bright as ever. “Really.”</p><p>“Well, then,” Blue said, having eventually sighed her concession, “when you and Cups and Orla--“</p><p>“Cups?”</p><p>“That cat is named Cups.”</p><p>“Oh, aw! <em> Cups!” </em></p><p>“Once you wrap up, Gansey and I will be in the other room. Cool?”</p><p>“Wicked,” Noah grinned back. He figured that the two would like a little more time alone, anyway -- he’d long noticed the way Gansey would watch her whenever she spoke, the same way he easily picked up on how and why Blue had been so angry about how different he acted in Washington. They liked each other and he knew it, even if Blue was too stubborn and Gansey was too <em> Gansey </em>to do anything about it. Knowing he’d catch them both soon, Noah held out a fist and Blue knocked her knuckles against it.</p><p>“I’m having a psychic moment,” Orla said, eyes peacefully shut. “Blue is finally leaving.”</p><p>When Noah couldn’t help but snicker, Blue (good-naturedly) slugged his shoulder, then messed up his hair, on her way out. </p><p>Then, three quick <em> fwips</em>. </p><p>Surprised with Orla’s speed, Noah leaned forward to read what she’d set down: Ten of Swords, Death, Three of Cups. He could only really guess what the second card could mean, even though the pictures of couples were throwing him off.</p><p>Purse-lipped and knit-browed, Noah looked up to Orla, thankful to still have Cups in his lap. It wasn’t cold in 300 Fox Way, but it felt colder without Blue in the room.</p><p>“You’ve been betrayed before,” she said, pushing forward the card with the swords going through the back of a person lying on top of another person. “By someone you cared about.”</p><p>His throat was a little dry. Tentatively, he nodded, and Orla kept going. She tapped a Pig-orange nail on the Death card, but didn’t talk about it. </p><p>“We’ll get back to it,” she said, looking to the third card. “This is a more pleasant one to talk about.”</p><hr/><p>Blue found Gansey standing at the open front door, glassy-eyed and pensive-looking, pizzas and shopping bag in his arms. Though she couldn’t be certain, she wanted to say that either Calla or Persephone had spoken to him -- if it had been Maura, there would have been much more of an interrogation happening. Blue collected the boxes from Nino’s out of his arms without much trouble, and when his brows didn’t unfurrow, she gave him a good (gentle) kick in the shin.</p><p>“It’s cold as death outside,” Blue snapped, “and you’re letting it all in. Come on, Gans.”</p><p>That -- not the kick in his leg -- seemed to get him to zone back in. He finally blinked.</p><p>“Ah, apologies,” he eventually said. “What was that, Jane?”</p><p>She raised a lone eyebrow at him. “You’re being horrifically wasteful and letting the heat out by pointlessly standing in front of my house instead of coming inside?"</p><p>“Oh. Of course. Right. But the other thing you said, I--”</p><p>After he brushed past her to step inside and remove his snow boots, Blue moved back to give him more space. Her cheeks were still stinging from the sudden transition of being in the Henrietta cold to being in Fox Way’s space heater warmth, though that wasn’t why they were burning again.</p><p>She’d left off the “--ey” in his name. </p><p>The way only Ronan ever did.</p><p>“I said, ‘It’s cold as death out, Gansey,’” Blue carefully, and sharply, mis-repeated. “And Noah’s getting a reading from my cousin. Can you text Ronan and Adam, and Henry?”</p><p>A solid diversion. Gansey nodded in response. Unfortunately, before he could take out his phone--</p><p>“Blue, close the door, would you? It’s cold as death out--”</p><p>Oh, <em> mother.  </em></p><p>Blue wasn’t psychic, but she very well knew where things were heading.</p><p>“Ah,” Maura said, standing barefooted in the doorway. “The pret--”</p><p>“Mom,” Blue interjected. Pretty boy, she was actually going to say! Out loud! A name like that would have meant something completely different coming from Maura than from Calla -- especially given their most recent conversation about parents. It seemed that being a junior in college didn’t make her immune to parental embarrassment.</p><p>(Gansey raised his eyebrows at her. Blue ignored him.)</p><p>“Gansey,” Maura continued, extending one of her hands. “I was expecting an ‘orange nightmare car,’ but I’ve heard much.”</p><p>
  <em> “Mother.” </em>
</p><p>(Gansey smiled at her. She could tell that his eyes were… Twinkling, or something. Something annoying. Ever stubborn, Blue ignored him. Again.)</p><p>“As have I,” he responded. Then he cleared his throat. “Ah, I mean --  good things, of course. I--”</p><p>“I know,” Maura said, smiling sagely. To Blue: “If you’ll be in the phone room with your friends, it’s best to relocate the landline to the reading room for Orla.” And then, to Gansey: “You, how do you feel about tea?”</p><hr/><p>Even with the ice and the snow, the drive from Singer Falls into town wasn’t too bad. Adam was a good student who easily learned how to <em> not </em> stall the BMW, and that meant he learned how to get Ronan to <em> not </em>curse him out with a combination of expletives not previously-known to man. Driving was not confusing. Cars in general were not confusing.</p><p>It was the fact that Ronan was even letting him drive the BMW that was confusing. </p><p>(Adam did have his hunches, though. Suppositions, as Gansey might have said himself.)</p><p>When they made it to 300 Fox Way, Noah’s car, a champagne-colored SUV, and Henry’s car were already parked on the block. Why they were the closest to Blue’s house but the last to arrive was chalked up to how Adam needed his clothes to dry before they left -- wearing Ronan's pajamas just wasn’t an option. Thankfully, if the time on the car’s dashboard was any indication, they weren’t abhorrently late. Adam wasn’t used to being tardy to anything; to school and work and all things in between, he was always punctual. Friend gatherings included.</p><p>...The last one was mostly because he didn’t have friend gatherings to be late to before he became friends with Gansey and Blue and Noah and Henry and Ronan, but still<em>. </em></p><p>He and Ronan stepped up to the porch, cold hands in their pockets and Chainsaw on Ronan’s shoulder. Adam was the one to reach out and knock, only before his knuckles even touched the door--</p><p>It swung open.</p><p>“Adam,” Persephone said, more brightly than she said most things. And then she tilted her head at Ronan, then at Chainsaw. “And you. And you.”</p><p>Ronan squinted at the signs boasting 300 Fox Way’s psychic services. Adam remembered that Ronan was Catholic.</p><p>“Hi, Persephone,” he responded, keeping Ronan in his peripherals. “It’s been a while.”</p><p>She pursed her lips. </p><p>“You’ve stopped drawing cards everyday.”</p><p>There was no such thing as lying to Persephone Poldma.</p><p>“I got--”</p><p>“Busy,” she finished. Then she smoothed her hands over her smock. “I understand. Anyhow, Blue, and the others -- they’re in the--”</p><p>“Phone-Sewing-Cat Room?”</p><p>Persephone said nothing. She only smiled vaguely.</p><p>Adam shrugged, painfully aware of how Ronan was most definitely looking at him, too. “A guess, is’all.”</p><p>In a very Persephone way, she handed him a singular tissue.</p><p>“Bless you, Adam,” she said.</p><hr/><p>Blue leapt to her feet as soon as they stepped through the doorway. She first asked how Adam and Ronan got in without her hearing, but before her question was even answered, she was collecting Chainsaw from Ronan’s shoulder. </p><p>Ronan let her. </p><p>Chainsaw barely liked Gansey as much as she liked Blue, and even if Ronan wasn’t keen on admitting it, he did believe that his bird was a strong indicator of who was -- and who wasn’t -- good enough for him to be friends with. And, since Chainsaw happily latched onto Blue’s arm, Ronan was temporarily alright with being in a place that celebrated a faith worlds removed from his. </p><p>Also, Gansey was there.</p><p>And Adam.</p><p>And Noah.</p><p>And -- well, no. Henry was annoying, but whatever.</p><p>Greetings were exchanged as Ronan slumped into the space on the sofa between Noah and Gansey. It was where Blue had been sitting, but since she had his bird, he got her seat. Indignant, she wrinkled her nose at him from across the room. </p><p>“Okay, rude.”</p><p>“Eat shit, maggot.”</p><p>“Extra rude!” She squawked and planted herself on the floor. “In my own house, too.”</p><p>“Yeah, man, with <em> my </em> bird.”</p><p>Noah held up the cat that he’d been holding in his lap. “Do you want her cat? To make it fair?”</p><p>“Oh, fuck no,” Ronan scowled, leaning away. “Get that shit away from me, Noah.”</p><p>“Oh, thank god,” he sighed. He cradled the cat again. “I actually very much didn’t wanna give up Cups, to be honest.”</p><p>“Cups is a stupidass name.”</p><p>Blue scoffed. “You prick, your raven is named Chainsaw.”</p><p>“And Chainsaw is a badass name, unlike Cups.”</p><p>“Both are good names,” Noah insisted.</p><p>“I’m partial to Cups,” Henry added.</p><p>“You’re partial to Blue,” Adam pointed out. Henry shrugged.</p><p>“That is not wrong.”</p><p>“Fuck off, Cheng.”</p><p>“This, you see, is why I am partial to not-you.”</p><p>“Hello? Not-You has a name.”</p><p>“Ah, of course! Azure Lieutenant. Apologies.”</p><p>Then Gansey smiled, in that annoying ass <em> Gansey </em> way of his, so the bleeding cut of Ronan’s scowl deepened.</p><p>On the surface, at least.</p><p>“Quite an odd face, Richardman,” Henry remarked.</p><p>“I missed this, is all,” he said, touching a hand to his chest. “You all.”</p><p>Oh -- Jesus fuck. Ronan gagged. The sound was paired with Noah’s simultaneous “d’aw”-ing, a snort from Blue, and a chuckle from Henry.</p><p>“Again -- <em> two days. </em> We’ve been on winter break for <em> two days.” </em></p><p>“I’m aware, honest! I just--”</p><p>“C’mon, he just misses us, Blue.”</p><p>“Goodall has a point, I must say,” Henry jumped in. “We’ll all be returning for not one, but three more semesters at Warren, right? We’ve only a month of break, then--”</p><p>“Wait, wait, wait,” Blue said, raising a hand. “Did you just call me ‘Goodall’? As in like, Jane Goodall?”</p><p>“Well, you said that I cannot call you ‘Jane,’ so I am not, Madam Austen.”</p><p>“Wow, Henry.”</p><p>“Yes, Fonda?”</p><p>Gansey leaned forward. “Pardon the interruption, but is there not a ‘Jane Lynch’ in the world?”</p><p>Ronan gagged (again). That time, Blue had done the same. “Christ, don’t fuckin’ call her Lynch.”</p><p>“Yeah, don’t call me Lynch.”</p><p>“You forgot a word there, Blue,” Adam pointed out, finally part of the conversation. Ronan cracked a smirk at him and Adam returned it.</p><p>Things were lighter between them. Better. </p><p>Open.</p><p>“Pshaw, Parrish.”</p><p>“Wait, wait. Hold on, I want a nickname, too!”</p><p>“Oh, Noah--”</p><p>As the conversation transitioned again, Ronan noticed the quiet smile on Adam’s face. He was seated in the armchair across from Henry, hands folded and--</p><p>Oh.</p><p>He looked over at Ronan.</p><p>Still smiling.</p><p>...That time, the eye contact sent his head spinning.</p><p>Chest tight, Ronan looked back down at Blue, and though she was busy smoothing her hands over Chainsaw’s feathers, her eyes were up. Ronan noticed that her smile, like Gansey’s, was something insufferable -- but he knew it was for an entirely different reason.</p><p>Ronan twisted his lip into a snarl when she started smirking.</p><p>“Shut the fuck up.”</p><p>“I didn’t even say anything!”</p><p>“You’re <em> thinking </em>things. I can tell. It’s in your beady little gremlin eyes.”</p><p>“Ronan,” Gansey said. “Jesus.”</p><p>“Pot calling the kettle black, Lynch,” she snarked back. “Help me get stuff for the pizza, would you?”</p><p>“Oh! Jane, if you’d like, I can--”</p><p>“No, no,” Blue said, hopping to her feet with Chainsaw on her arm. “Ronan will.”</p><p>“Uh, not,” Ronan protested. “Shove it, twerp.”</p><p>Gansey sat up. “Really, it’s--”</p><p>“Nope. Ronan, kitchen, come on.”</p><p>Adam sneezed into his elbow and Ronan muttered a “bless you” as he begrudgingly stood up. At first, Adam looked like he was going to thank him -- and then he didn’t.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>howdee pals thank u, once again, for your support and patience. a couple of seeds r being sown and i am lookin forward to reap em &gt;:) hope u all had a great halloween!!! so much love my friends &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3</p><p>(also.....i wanted to do nanowrimo, but i didn't have time to plot, sooooOOOO i think i might just be writing a Ton for this fix heeyaw)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0043"><h2>43. when i’m with you, there’s no passing the time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>gangsey @ fox way continued !! bronan convo, gansey lovin’ his pals, adam thinking abt ronan :’)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He trudged into the kitchen behind her, reluctant as he was. When Blue prompted him to, Ronan stuck out his arm for Chainsaw to perch on. Then, once she was relieved of raven duty, she shuffled over to a counter, planted her palms on the surface, and hauled herself on top of it.</p><p>Ronan watched with a lone, critical eyebrow raised.</p><p>“That’s some people shit. Couldn’t be me.”</p><p>“Shut up, tall ass.”</p><p>“You don’t actually want any goddamn help, do you?” He sighed, leaning against the doorframe. Save for the hanging dried herbs and the unnecessary amount of mirrors and all of the crystals and jars of whatever-the-fuck sitting on dark wood shelves, her house almost -- <em> almost </em> -- reminded him a little of the farmhouse at the Barns. Both were weathered. Both were well-lived in. Both clearly meant something to them, respectively.</p><p>Blue just snorted at him as she opened the cabinets. Her process was this: collect a plate, scrunch down to set it beside her feet on the counter, stand up, repeat. “Of course I don’t need your help. I’m perfectly capable of getting <em> plates </em>on my own.”</p><p>(Obviously, though, it would have been easier for them both if Ronan just got the dishware. But he didn’t move, he just wondered why their plates and shit were kept so high up when Blue was so short.)</p><p>“Okay?” He said, lip curled. “Then why the fuck did you want me here?”</p><p>Ronan only realized that it was a bad question <em> after </em> Blue looked over her shoulder, because when she looked over her shoulder, it was to show him that she was grinning. Said grin on her face was one that could only be described as shit-eating.</p><p>So, naturally, he moved to flip her off.</p><p>“You know why, Lynch.”</p><p>“If I did, I wouldn’t have asked.” Except it would have been a lie to say that he didn’t have a hunch, at the very least. Ronan could guess why she’d asked him to come to the kitchen even though Gansey had volunteered himself, and his guess was Adam.</p><p>“Sounds like you’re deflecting,” Blue pointed out.</p><p>“Sounds like you’re annoying,” Ronan retaliated.</p><p>He watched as Blue balanced on the counter and leaned back enough to close the cabinet. After turning around, she hopped back down to the floor, but despite having what they came for, she didn’t move to head back into the living room. Instead, she just sneered up at him with her arms folded over her chest.</p><p>“Well, then screw you, too. Excuse me for wanting to catch up with a friend ab--”</p><p>“Ugh,” he interrupted. “You’re calling us friends?”</p><p>“Yes, I am. Cry about it. Excuse me for wanting to catch up with a friend about his--”</p><p>“My what?”</p><p>
  <em> Crush. She was going to say crush. </em>
</p><p>“Oh, for the love of--if you’d let me finish, maybe you’d know by now.” Blue scoffed, clearly exasperated. If they were standing closer, Ronan knew that she’d have kicked him. “I am talking about Adam, jackass. Or, trying to, at least!”</p><p>Ronan scowled. He didn’t know why he was so bothered about it, since he and Blue had talked about Adam more than a few times now. Blue once made a joke about them kissing, and Blue also gave him that leaf of advice before making him chauffeur her into town for milkshakes -- so Blue <em> knew. </em>And he knew that Gansey picked up on it, too. It was just--</p><p>If Blue, and <em> Gansey, </em> managed to figure it out, he wondered if Adam had, too.</p><p>The idea made his heart stall.</p><p>“Fine.” Chainsaw still on his shoulder and hands in his pockets, Ronan squinted at Blue from across the kitchen. “What <em> about </em> Adam?”</p><p>“He’s been staying at the Barns with you?”</p><p>“Yeah, so fuckin’ what?”</p><p>Blue rocked on her heels. “And you two have been talking.”</p><p>“No. We’ve been clicking at each other like goddamn dolphins,” he said, rolling his eyes. </p><p>“Dolphins click to sense their surroundings, actually. They whistle to communicate with other d--”</p><p>“Save the animal facts for Gansey -- no shit we’ve been talking.”</p><p>...Her smile softened. It was all melty, the same way Gansey’s had been.</p><p>Ronan immediately knew that he liked the other grin better.</p><p>“What?” He demanded. “Why are you giving me that stupidass face?”</p><p>“Well, I can tell. That you two have been talking, that is.”</p><p>“Again: no shit, we’ve been talking.” If he were Gansey, he would have pinched the bridge of his nose, since that was an awfully Gansey thing to do. “The hell do you even mean?”</p><p>“Take a hint, Lynch. What I mean,” Blue said, scooping the plates into her arms, “is that if you don’t want me to tease you about your crush on Adam, you should probably stop gazing at him all longingly.”</p><p>Gazing at --at Adam -- <em> longingly? </em></p><p>He didn’t--</p><p>He hadn’t--</p><p>“I’m--” Ronan uncharacteristically sputtered, feeling his chest tighten and his skin warm. “That’s fucking out of pocket. I don’t have--”</p><p>“Didn’t you say you, like, never lie?”</p><p>(Motherfucker, goddamn gremlin, annoying ass little--)</p><p>“--I am not gazing at him adoringly,” he finished coldly, frowning. Not a lie, because he wasn’t. He was not, and he had not.</p><p>But Blue’s smile was still savage.</p><p>“Oh, really? Because I said longingly, not adoringly.”</p><p>
  <em> Fucker. </em>
</p><p>Ronan rolled his eyes to save face. “Christ, is there a difference?”</p><p>“I don’t know, is there?”</p><p>“Look, I don’t need you <em> and </em>Gansey on my case about this shit.”</p><p>“Gansey!” Blue echoed. “I forgot that he finally picked up on you two. I guess that Henry did have to spell it out for him, and then he needed me to clarify, but still -- good on him, y’know?”</p><p>Ronan fixed his slouch by just a fraction. An out.</p><p>“Look, I get it,” he drawled, grasping that straw. “You just can’t shut the fuck up about Gansey, but it’d be a goddamn blessing if you at least tried.”</p><p>Blue looked about ready to throw a plate at him, which meant that she and Gansey were <em> also </em>still tiptoeing around each other -- and that meant that it was his turn to grin something wicked. “Don’t change the subject!” She protested, warning him with narrowed eyes. “We were talking about you and Adam.”</p><p>Over the few months that they’d spent being (ugh) friends, one thing Ronan learned about Blue was that she didn’t care who heard her when she talked. This was because usually, she was talking about her opinions, and she wanted everyone to know her opinions. But, even when she wasn’t talking about her opinions, she spoke <em> loudly. </em></p><p>“Jesus, maggot,” Ronan grimaced, throwing her a cutting glare. “Wanna make sure they all heard you out there?”</p><p>“They didn’t hear that,” she assured him, “he didn’t hear me.”</p><p>“Don’t be fucking insensitive.”</p><p>The words rushed out before he knew he was even saying them. At first, Blue looked confused. </p><p>Then she pursed her lips.</p><p>“Oh,” she quietly said. “Right.”</p><p>Ronan picked a thing in the kitchen and stared at it.</p><p>“...So he told you?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>He wondered if Blue knew about Adam’s court date, too. But it wasn’t his place to ask, even if she did.</p><p>“That’s…” She trailed off. “Good, I think.”</p><p>“That he lost half his hearing?”</p><p>“No!” Blue protested. “God, no. Of course not. It’s good that he’s talking to you.”</p><p>Ronan just shrugged. It was, wasn’t it? It was a shitty thing to know, but he knew. Adam had trusted him enough to talk about it -- not too dissimilar from how Ronan trusted him enough to talk about his own bullshit. He thought about Adam, who refused anything that seemed like a handout and worked two jobs to make ends meet. Adam, who fixed him up after not just one fight, but two. Adam, who still seemed to be holding himself at arm’s length, even though they’d made a habit of stealing touches from one another for a few months.</p><p>He thought about Adam, and what it would be like to know even more about him.</p><p>They were quiet for a long moment before Blue finally moved to leave the kitchen. As she passed him by, she balanced the six plates in one arm and lightly, good-naturedly punched his shoulder.</p><p>“C’mon,” she said. “You have goo-goo eyes to make, pal.”</p>
<hr/><p>It was surprising that Blue and Ronan didn’t re-enter the room in the middle of bickering -- that was how they usually seemed to interact. Gansey noticed that, over time, their arguments had gone from being concerning to being commonplace, so he liked to think that they’d settled into their friendships with each other rather well.</p><p>Really, that went for all of them: Adam had stopped being as aloof with him, just as Blue had significantly warmed up to him, and she and Noah got along fantastically, Henry fit right in, and Ronan and Adam--</p><p>Well, Gansey had his suppositions that they possessed a rather separate dynamic.</p><p>Gansey scooted over enough to let Ronan reclaim his seat between himself and Noah. Chainsaw moved down onto Ronan’s leg, cocked her head at the cat in Noah’s lap, then gave it a disinterested screech. But, once Blue went about distributing plates, Gansey stood up and took the liberty of carefully moving books and crystals from the coffee table to another desk in the room. He didn’t want to get pizza grease on any of her family’s belongings -- he would feel terrible. While they waited for Noah to finish his reading, she had let him leaf through their books on astrology and medicinal herbs and crystals, and the last thing he wanted was to ruin them.</p><p>(Blue spared him a smile when she noticed. He glowed in the wake of it.)</p><p>Being at 300 Fox Way with everyone was this: Blue and Gansey giving the others what they found at the antique mall, Noah showing Blue how to kickflip with the fingerboard, Adam trying to deny the messenger bag, Blue not taking “no” for an answer. It was Henry asking about what courses they were enrolled in for the next semester and Adam’s eyes going bright as he talked about the last few classes he had left to take for his major and Blue longing for the chance to study abroad. It was Henry suggesting that they all take a trip together over Spring Break and Blue jumping to her feet to agree.</p><p>(Camping, Noah pitched in. Or the beach, or a lake, or camping at a beach or a lake. Henry submitted the idea of a road trip. Blue mourned how far spring and summer were.)</p><p>It was Noah running out into the snow in the backyard, barefooted, just because Ronan dared him to; it was Blue taking candids with the camera Henry got her. It was Adam sneezing and Ronan being the first to bless him, Blue pointing that out, then Adam sneezing a third time and Ronan saying “shut the fuck up” instead of “bless you” -- and Adam <em> laughing </em> about it. It was Ronan and Adam going back and forth with snarky quips, almost just like how Ronan and Blue would, but… Different. It was all of them taking turns picking songs to quietly play from Noah’s phone to keep in the background as they talked -- it was Henry’s Madonna and Gansey’s obscure medieval instrumentals and Ronan’s metal electronica and Adam’s study acoustics and Noah’s rock bands and Blue’s righteous punk.</p><p>It was Gansey, feeling at home.</p><p>At some point, he had joined Blue on the floor, since almost every cat in the house had decided to curl up around Noah. Ronan had been banished to one far end of the sofa while Noah and the cats occupied the rest -- and either surprisingly or unsurprisingly, Chainsaw found refuge with Adam. Gansey supposed that the time Adam was spending at the Barns had done them a great deal of good.</p><p>Blue drew him out of his thoughts with a nudge of her foot against his. “Hey,” she said, “what are you thinking about?”</p><p>Gansey smiled and tipped his head at her. “Nothing in particular. And yourself?”</p><p>He watched her eyes flicker between Henry and Noah, because Noah was trying to teach Henry all of the names of Fox Way’s resident felines.</p><p>“Cups is a Russian blue, that’s this fella. Then there’s Wands, and this gal is Swords--”</p><p>“Noah, are you certain that this is your first time meeting these cats?”</p><p>“Oh, yeah. I just love cats,” Noah grinned. “Here, try and hold Cups, he’s Blue’s cat.”</p><p>“I am not entirely sure if--”</p><p>“C’mon, just pet him. He’s adorable, Henry! Look at his face--”</p><p>“Alright, alright--”</p><p>Then her gaze moved between Ronan and Adam, because Ronan was flippantly thumbing through a book on tarot and saying cards while Adam was proving that it was, in fact, possible to know the meaning of each card. </p><p>“Two of Cups,” Ronan said.</p><p>“Partnership,” Adam replied. “Balance and connection.”</p><p>“Lucky guess.”</p><p>Adam gave Ronan a sideways grin. “I told you, I’m not guessing. Honest.”</p><p>“Fine, whatever. This is still bullshit,” Ronan returned, flipping to a new random page. “Queen of Swords.”</p><p>“Emotional coldness, but intellectual understanding. Are you trying to tell me something, Lynch?”</p><p>“No? Fuck off, Parrish. Knight of Pentacles.”</p><p>“Patience and hard work, commitment. If you want more proof, I can tell you the reverse meanings, too.”</p><p>“Jesus God, there’s <em> more?” </em></p><p>Gansey looked back to Blue, and Blue looked back to Gansey. They shared a smile that he thought could be defined as ‘knowing.’</p><p>“Thank you,” Gansey said, “for having us over, Jane.”</p><p>Blue waved a hand. “You and Ronan host all the time.”</p><p>“Nonetheless, it’s appreciated.”</p><p>“Pshaw,” she replied, before pushing herself to her feet. “Hey. We’ve got tons of tea, but I think we should have hot chocolate packets. Help me out in the kitchen?”</p><p>She offered him her hand, and even when he accepted it, Gansey almost didn’t want to stand up. He liked the way her palm fit against his.</p>
<hr/><p>Adam knew that he’d end up sneezing when Persephone preemptively gave him a tissue, but he didn’t anticipate sneezing more than once. The problem was that he didn’t think it was the fault of any dust; he hadn’t sneezed once while he was at the Barns -- a place likely much more dusty than 300 Fox Way. So, when Blue popped her head into the room to ask who wanted tea and who wanted hot chocolate, Adam opted for tea. If he was going to come down with a cold, he’d have to do what he could to stamp it out before it got too bad.</p><p>(The idea of being sick was one that he dreaded<em>. </em> No -- <em> loathed. </em>Adam didn’t get sick, because Adam couldn’t afford to get sick.)</p><p>Out of his peripherals, he could tell that Ronan was watching him. When Adam found that he wasn’t uncomfortable with it, he tried to crack a small, hopefully reassuring, smile at him.</p><p>But Ronan quickly looked away.</p><p>Ouch.</p><p>After distributing drinks with Gansey, Blue left again and came back with a stack of blankets. She wrapped one around herself and, once hunkered down on the floor, asked everyone to tell them about how they were celebrating Christmas.</p><p>“I mean, I know the songs, and I get the gift exchanging,” she said, “but I never understood stuff like… Caroling, you know? And I’m still figuring out how I feel about the environmental impacts of Christmas trees. There’s a lot to sort through.”</p><p>“My family gets a tree every year,” Noah chimed in, hands curled around his hot chocolate instead of a cat, for once. “We always decorate it together, too, which is neat.”</p><p>“There’s often a holiday party at my parents’ house,” Gansey added, making both Adam and Blue raise their eyebrows.</p><p>“Like your gala?” Blue asked, not perfectly kind in tone. Adam figured that he knew why.</p><p>“Oh, no. Far humbler than that.” Gansey shook his head. “Just extended family.”</p><p>Even Ronan, who was sitting with his arms crossed, joined the conversation. </p><p>...Adam wondered if it was because he caught another one of his glances. The two of them seemed to have been doing that: catching each other looking their ways. If Adam didn’t think more of it, he could have written it off as coincidence, but there really weren’t many reasons for the two of them to be looking at each other. Sure, Ronan’s jawline was worth admiring, and the sharp angle of his nose and the angry line of his mouth was nice to see when it softened, but--</p><p>He hastily pried his eyes away and looked back down at his drink.</p><p>“My brothers are driving down from D.C.,” was all Ronan said. “Usually, it has to be vice-versa.”</p><p>Adam easily gathered what that meant: later that week, it was going to be Ronan’s first Christmas at the Barns. Though Ronan said he could stay until his trial happened, Adam firmly resolved to be out of the way as soon as he could leave town. After all, now that he knew what he knew about Ronan’s family… It wouldn’t feel right to intrude.</p><p>Henry talked about what Christmas looked like with the other people who stayed at the Litchfield house, and Noah and Gansey talked about their siblings. Ronan didn’t. Likewise, instead of adding in, Adam kept himself busy with his tea, knowing that Blue would understand his silence. Oddly enough, he had the feeling that Ronan would, too.</p><p>Adam raised his elbow again and, for a grand total of four times that night, sneezed.</p><p>“Grow up,” Ronan sneered at him, in lieu of another ‘bless you.’ Despite himself, Adam tried for another smile.</p><p>That time, Ronan smiled back.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hellooooo so sorry i haven’t replied to comments, i am gonna jump on that right now! it’s been a whirlwind of a week but i hope u guys are all hanging in there alright. :’) so much love, as always. i cannot tell u just how much ur readership means to me!!!!!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0044"><h2>44. i hope this is my last day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>the author decides that she would like to write some sickfic, and naturally, adam is the one who comes down with the bad cold and ronan is the one who notices. &gt;:) (also, bronan text convo and just a lil bluesey!)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Since they stayed so long at Blue’s, Ronan invited Adam to spend the night at the Barns again. It only made sense, since buses didn’t run late enough for him to just hop onto one headed back to Warren.</p><p>Adam hesitated, but ultimately, he agreed -- on the condition that he’d leave as soon as he got up.</p><p><em> It’s the day before Christmas Eve, </em> he had tried to reason. <em> I’ll get out of your hair in the morning. </em></p><p><em> You mean it’s Christmas Eve Eve, </em>Noah had supplied helpfully. Gansey managed a smile, because it was Noah.</p><p><em> You can’t get out of his hair, he’s bald, </em>Blue had supplied, less-helpfully. Gansey managed a chuckle, because it was Blue. Ronan said that he didn’t give a shit, and really, he didn’t; he wouldn’t care if Adam stayed through all of winter break. </p><p>...It was definitely a thought, though.</p><p>When Ronan went to sleep that night, he was pretty sure that he’d wake up to Adam’s absence in the living room. He imagined that, in the morning, the other couch would have fluffed pillows and freshly-laundered blankets neatly folded on one of the arms; he imagined that there would be a pot of coffee in the kitchen but no used mug in the sink. Ronan resigned himself to that reality: one where Adam slipped out while he was asleep and erased every suggestion that he was ever in the Barns. </p><p>But first thing in the morning, Ronan realized that he hadn’t been right at all.</p><p>It was nine o’clock and Adam was still asleep on the other living room sofa. </p><p>As Ronan rubbed the grogginess from his eyes and sat upright, he studied Adam. He was curled up on his side with two blankets to combat the cold, one hollow of his fine cheekbones faced the ceiling while the other was pressed against the pillow under his head, his eyelashes were peacefully fanned over his lightly freckled cheeks, his lips were parted as he breathed, and--</p><p>Jesus.</p><p>Jesus fuck.</p><p>He dragged a hand down his face, sat up, and took out his phone.</p><hr/><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> maggot </em>
</p><p>
  <em> maggot </em>
</p><p>
  <em> maggot </em>
</p><p>
  <em> maggot </em>
</p><p>
  <em> maggot </em>
</p><p>
  <em> SARGENT </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> what </em>
</p><p>
  <em> WHAT!!!!! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> you’re going to text me seven times and then not reply?? really? </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> shut up im typing </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> sHuT Up iM tYPiNg </em>
</p><p>
  <em> faceass </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> look. adam is asleep on the couch and i dunno what the fuck im supposed to do ‘cause he said he wants to leave in the morning </em>
</p><p>
  <em> but like </em>
</p><p>
  <em> you heard his ass sneezing last night </em>
</p><p>
  <em> feel like he might be sick </em>
</p><p>
  <em> but also idk how the hell buses work and im not sure if he bought a ticket or sm shit already </em>
</p><p>
  <em> how much are bus tickets and would it be fucked up to let him potentially sleep through his ride? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i mean worst case scenario i drive him idgaf </em>
</p><p>
  <em> why arent you fucking responding </em>
</p><p>
  <em> the fuck do i do here </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> i was letting you finish asshole </em>
</p><p>
  <em> well, RAMBLE, really. </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> hey sarge? </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> what </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> choke. </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> do you want my opinion or not </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> fine </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> fine???? </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> fucking </em>
</p><p>
  <em> yeah. yes </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> just YES??????? </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> i literally hate you </em>
</p><p>
  <em> yes please you fucking gremlin</em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>:&gt;</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> stfu what do i do </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> well first of all i’m calling you out for not knowing how buses work because how do you just not know how buses work?? </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> bc im rich </em>
</p><p>
  <em> duh </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> eugh. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> second of all, maybe adam just looked up bus times and planned on buying a ticket there? i’m not sure. i usually plan my trips back home and buy tickets online + in advance but </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i know he’s not the type to sleep in like that, which means he’s gotta be tired </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> yeah no shit </em>
</p><p>
  <em> the past weekend he’d be up at fuckshit o’clock to make coffee </em>
</p><p>
  <em> does he ever fucking BREATHE </em>
</p><p>
  <em> like arent you shitheads on goddamn break </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> swearing doesn’t make it less obvious that you care about him </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> i hope you shit your pants today </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> gansey says that that was awfully crude </em>
</p><p>
  <em> and also he agrees that the swearing is just making it obvious that you like him </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> hold the fuck up </em>
</p><p>
  <em> what do you mean GANSEY </em>
</p><p>
  <em> is he still fucking there??? </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> yeah? he slept on the couch </em>
</p><p>
  <em> you + adam were going to the barn and henry + noah had shorter drives </em>
</p><p>
  <em> washington is three hours away </em>
</p><p>
  <em> did you think i’d make him drive three hours in the snow at half past two in the morning?? </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> i guess the fuck not </em>
</p><p>
  <em> shoulda known youd french him as soon as we all left </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> bro he is RIGHT HERE </em>
</p><p>
  <em> he read that and looked away all awkwardly </em>
</p><p>
  <em> good job </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> thanks i try </em>
</p><p>
  <em> sike. not really </em>
</p><p>
  <em> anyway talk about me again bc i dont wanna hear about how you fuckers snogged </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> there was no kissing!!! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> and there will be no kissing until i feel like it. </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> so youve considered kissing him? </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> i said what i said. did i stutter? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> anyway </em>
</p><p>
  <em> adam really isn’t the type to sleep in, so if you’re right and he’s sick, it might be good to let him rest </em>
</p><p>
  <em> but also, he’d probably hate it </em>
</p><p>
  <em> did he say anything about needing to be back for anything specific? like work?? </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> no </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i dont think he has shit going on right now </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i think he just feels like hes overstaying or whatfuckinever </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> well, that sure sounds like adam </em>
</p><p>
  <em> but i mean. i guess it wouldn’t hurt to let him sleep in? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> he might be annoyed about it when he wakes up though </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> oh fucking well </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> gansey says let him sleep </em>
</p><p>
  <em> he also noticed that adam kept sniffling last night </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> k </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> …..ahem?? </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> what </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> whaddaya mean “what” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> you’re welcome jackass </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> oh </em>
</p><p>
  <em> k </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> :/ </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> fine </em>
</p><p>
  <em> thanks gansey </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> Jane has passed her phone to me in indignation. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> All our best, Ronan! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ah, never mind </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jane says “you do not speak for me,” so I can only give you my personal best </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> oh no. how tragic. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> how will i survive. </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> Do so for my sake, Lynch </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> doesnt sarge have autocaps off </em>
</p><p>
  <em> are you fucking capitalizing shit manually </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> ........Perhaps </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> christ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> im going back to sleep </em>
</p><p>
  <em> drive safe </em>
</p><p>
  <em> or whatever </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> &lt;3 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> (This is still Gansey. Jane ordered me to clarify.) </em>
</p><hr/><p>“Coat,” Blue said, holding the garment out to him. Before he could take it, though, she pulled it back towards herself to inspect the tag. After a moment, she made a critical noise and held it out again -- albeit with a wrinkled nose. Nonetheless, he smiled and accepted it.</p><p>“Much appreciated, Jane,” he said. “Both my coat and your couch, I should say.”</p><p>“Sure thing,” she replied, her Henrietta cadence seeping through her tone. It was the same warmth she always spoke with, but Gansey knew that it was far more noticeable when she was tired. “I may not drive, but three hours at three in the morning in over three inches of snow sounds rough.”</p><p>“Didn’t you say that three is a good number?”</p><p>She laughed, just a breath. “It is, unless you’re talking about it in this specific context.”</p><p>“Well,” Gansey said, “perhaps when the snow vacates the roads, I can teach you? To drive?” He paused. “Not that I am being oblique and implying that you cannot drive at all, I simply recalled the evening when you professed that you could not operate a manual transmission, so I--”</p><p>Blue set a hand on his arm, effectively putting him out of his grandiloquent misery.</p><p>“I know what you meant,” she said, smiling something -- complacent. Something smug. “Yes, you can teach me stick. As long as it’s the Pig.”</p><p>Gansey grinned, lopsided and true.</p><p>As he put on his coat, Blue rocked on her heels. Her left sock was patterned with stars and her right sock was patterned with leaves. It was so terribly <em> Blue </em> of her, the same way she likely saw his Ralph Lauren double-breasted coat as very <em> Gansey </em> of him. </p><p>He wanted to tell her that it had been a gift, if only because she was standing in front of him with mismatched socks and an oversized brown sweater with the words “I was a tree” printed across the chest and leaves cut from felt stitched all over it. She was clearly someone that presented her character through her clothes -- it only made sense for him to assume that she saw <em> his </em> own clothes as reflections of himself.</p><p><em> But there’s more to me than this, </em> he wanted to add, <em> I promise. </em></p><p>He did not.</p><p>Instead, Gansey patted down his pockets to make sure that he had everything -- his keys, his wallet, his cellphone. His Excalibur pen and stone holder was waiting for him on a table by the door--</p><p>“Perhaps a quick card for the road?” A gentle voice chimed. Both of them looked up to see Persephone step out of the Phone/Sewing/Cat room, tarot deck in hand.</p><p>“Or two,” Maura said, emerging from the kitchen with a mug of tea. “Five was loud, but one is doable.”</p><p>From behind Persephone, Calla stepped into the doorway with a sigh. Again, her prickly demeanor was similar to Ronan’s, and therefore, not fully terrifying. “Fine,” she said, “if we must. Three.”</p><p>A good number, he mused.</p><p>While Blue looked unsurprised by the appearance of the three women, Gansey had been a little surprised -- but, as someone deeply intrigued by the metaphysical, he was certainly in no position to decline. Gansey did want to clarify, however: “Loud?”</p><p>“Your energy,” Blue said, giving him a good pat on the shoulder. “They sense it, and everyone's combined last night was kind of a lot. But hey, twenty bucks says you get the same cards Adam read for you.”</p><p>“Oh? Adam’s already read his cards?” Maura asked, looking to Blue.</p><p>Persephone smiled. “Of course he has.” </p><p>“Best make it forty, Blue,” Calla snorted, picking under a nail with her thumb.</p><p>Blue rolled her eyes at Calla. “Those same three cards,” she said. “Bet.”</p><p>Gansey tipped his head. “I’ll get to pick them? And watch the cards be shuffled?”</p><p>“Tarot readings are not parlor tricks, boy. We’re psychics, not magicians,” Calla snapped.</p><p>Persephone tutted. “That is only true of some of us. There are people who are both, you know this.” </p><p>The remark made Maura snort and Calla sigh. He was confused, surely -- but not untrusting. Noah had very briefly talked about the reading Blue’s cousin gave him, and though he seemed to be uncomfortable with sharing the more specific details, he only had praising words.</p><p>Gansey held a hand out to Blue, eager to lose the wager.</p><p>“A bet, then.”</p><hr/><p>In time, Adam woke up.</p><p>He fought the heaviness of his head as he reached under his pillow for his cell phone. When he pressed a button, the screen told him it was only noon, so Adam locked it and closed his eyes again--</p><p>Then he snapped them open, shot upright on the couch, and fumbled with his phone as he checked the time again. </p><p>...Noon?</p><p>Noon!</p><p>Noon, noon, noon -- cold dread settled in his chest as he properly registered that it was <em> noon. </em>How was it already twelve? How had he slept through his alarms? He planned on being out of Henrietta by ten, he planned on -- he had to -- he never slept in -- he --</p><p>Damn it,his <em> head. </em></p><p>He became newly aware of how his temples ached, though he attributed it to the sharp, sudden way that he sat up. Adam’s initial reluctance to peel the blankets off of himself was blown out of the water by the panic that came with sleeping in. Reason and better sense would have allowed him to realize that there was no harm in a few extra hours of sleep, especially since he wasn’t on a schedule as tight as he usually managed -- but reason and better sense were not at the forefront of his mind. Giving Ronan his space back was.</p><p>Adam scrubbed a hand through his hair as he staggered to his feet. He needed to change his shirt because he was wearing Ronan’s again. He needed to get the suit he wore to Gansey’s because he’d need it when he went to court in five days. He needed to make sure he had his laptop and his phone charger, he needed to load the washer with the blankets and clothes he borrowed, he needed to check the kitchen and make sure he didn’t leave any spoons or mugs behind, he--</p><p>He rounded his way towards the bathroom, only to end up running into Ronan emerging from it. Adam caught himself on Ronan’s arms; Ronan caught Adam’s elbows. </p><p>His hands were cool against Adam skin. When was the last time they touched? Adam couldn’t remember, but Ronan was solid. He was real, and he was -- in his own sharp <em> Ronan </em>way -- almost gorgeous. Like his tattoos. Like the wicked angles of his eyebrows. Like--</p><p>Adam’s breath caught in his throat and his face felt hot. There was a fog in his brain and he was thinking strange things, which meant that he was still waking up. </p><p>“Fuckin’ hell,” Ronan said, not drawing away. If anything, he had leaned in -- to squint at him, that was. Adam’s face felt hotter. “You look like shit, Parrish.”</p><p>That -- that snapped him out of it. </p><p>His stomach twisted. Ronan didn’t need to say what Adam already knew.</p><p>Chastened, and a bit more awake, Adam promptly stepped back and dropped his arms and pursed his lips so as to not start scowling. Ronan Lynch’s snark was a blessing to receive first thing in the afternoon. Not. “Thanks,” he responded drily, “I just got up.”</p><p>“No, like--” Ronan stepped aside and jerked his head towards the mirror in the bathroom. “You look like you <em> feel </em> like shit. Are you good?”</p><p>...Brow furrowed, Adam brushed past him to inspect his reflection. His nose was tinged pink -- likely because of the cold. He looked a little tired, but that wasn’t anything new. And his messy hair? Again, he did just wake up. Adam raked his fingers through it so it looked more presentable. He looked like his normal amount of shitty.</p><p>“I look fine,” he told Ronan, using the mirror’s reflection to look at him as he leaned against the doorframe, “I feel fine.”</p><p>Ronan scoffed. “You look like Noah after he ran around in the snow last night: cold and pale.”</p><p>Adam didn’t agree, but he didn’t have it in him to argue with Ronan -- not again, not after how they’d fought at Gansey’s party. Instead of responding, he just shook his head and reached for his toothbrush -- the same one he’d (luckily) forgotten to take from the Barns after they all stayed over for Thanksgiving. He wasn’t cold, nor was he pale, and he definitely didn’t look like shit, because he was fine.</p><p>Adam stopped brushing when he felt a tickle in his nose; to prevent the worst, he leaned over the sink and spat out his toothpaste early. The urge to sneeze went away, but a glance at the mirror showed that Ronan hadn’t.</p><p>Why?</p><p>Why didn’t he just walk away? </p><p>(And not just from the bathroom. After everything, Ronan still hadn’t walked away. Adam didn’t understand.)</p><p>“I’m not sick,” he insisted, half-hoping to dismiss Ronan from the doorway.</p><p>“I didn’t say you were sick.”</p><p>“You were thinking it.”</p><p>“Oh, because you can read minds now?”</p><p>Adam imagined Persephone’s vague smile. “No,” he said, because he wasn’t psychic, “but you implied it. I’m fine, though, and I should--”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” Ronan sneered. He pushed off of the doorframe and sauntered down the hall, towards the kitchen. “There’s coffee in the kitchen, if y’want any before you go. Then I’ll take you down to the… Bus stop, or whatever the fuck it’s called.”</p><p>Frowning, Adam followed. So maybe he <em> was </em> chilly, but that wasn’t strange -- it was winter, after all. “You don’t have to d--”</p><p>“Why, because you’re gonna walk? Down the hills, through the snow, into town?” Ronan said, cutting him off a second time. “Get real.”</p><p>...Adam ran his tongue over his freshly-brushed teeth. Despite how mean he could be, Ronan wasn’t cruel. If anything? He reminded Adam of Blue, because while Blue was kind, she wasn’t necessarily nice. Likewise, Ronan was an asshole, but he wasn’t an <em> asshole.  </em></p><p>He couldn't argue. Ronan was right.</p><p>“I appreciate that,” Adam managed. But the heaviness had quickly returned to his head, and he needed to steady himself with a hand on the wall. There was an ache in his back too, though that was most likely because of how he slept on the couch.</p><p>Adam was fine.</p><p>He had to be.</p><hr/><p>Adam was not fine. </p><p>He just couldn’t be, and from only ten minutes at the island counter, Ronan knew this.</p><p>Adam wasn’t fine, not with the way he paused for so long before opening a cabinet for a mug. Not with the way he kept reaching up to rub his eyes only to stop himself halfway; not with the way he was breathing so heavily. Not with the way he was trying to hide how he was sniffling while he drank his coffee, not with the way his eyelids kept drooping, not with the way his shoulders were sagging.</p><p>Ronan's problem was this: as terrible as he looked, he was still unfairly, unreasonably, <em> effortlessly </em>elegant. Not like Gansey, though -- Gansey was more regal. Adam was lovely, even when he looked like shit.</p><p>Ronan took a slow breath. He exhaled it even more slowly.</p><p>“Don’t leave,” he said.</p><p>Adam’s eyebrows immediately launched towards his hairline, which was the quickest he’d moved since he sat down.</p><p>“M’sorry?”</p><p>Ronan urged his pulse to steady. Adam never let his words collide like that; he spoke crisply and with distinct enunciation. In that moment, though, Ronan heard just a hint of a Henrietta twang -- the one that Blue had.</p><p>“Don’t leave,” he repeated. “You’re clearly coming down with something, even if you’re too fucking stubborn to admit it. You really wanna sit on a bus like this? For like -- how long are those goddamn bus rides, anyway?”</p><p>Adam opened his mouth, then closed it. He stared at Ronan. After another moment, he looked down and took a long drink of his coffee.</p><p>“Your family is coming tomorrow,” Adam eventually said. Ronan remained unbothered.</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“What do you mean, <em> ‘and’? </em>Do you not think it would be weird for me to be around?”</p><p>Ronan sneered. “Declan’s too polite to piss in public about shit like that. Matthew just wants someone to watch him play video games.”</p><p>“Still.”</p><p>“If it freaks you out so goddamn much, then leave,” Ronan said, hoping that he wouldn’t. “But you still look like shit, and if your nasty ass gets a fucking fever on some grody bus, you can’t blame me for not being around to look out for you.”</p><p>Adam pursed his mouth shut, just for a moment.</p><p>“Why would I consider blaming you? I never asked you to ‘look out for me,’” he said, hands neatly folded around his coffee. For a second, he almost reminded Ronan of Gansey when he got all proper.</p><p>He scoffed. “Don’t be a dumbass, Parrish. That’s what you do when someone gets fucking sick.” That’s what Ronan did when Gansey came down with sleep-deprivation nausea and dizziness, that’s what Gansey did when Ronan ended up with head colds picked up from Opal. They took care of each other -- they always did, and they always have. Ronan didn’t know why it was such a big deal to Adam, or why Adam didn’t assume that Ronan would automatically just--</p><p>Oh, right. Adam’s parents were pathetic fuckheads that didn’t look out for him. </p><p>The twist in Ronan’s chest wasn’t pity. It was anger, because Adam deserved better, but he was too fucking used to his parents’ bullshit neglect to see that someone could actually gave a damn about him -- to see that <em> Ronan </em> gave a damn about him.</p><p>He wet his lips and, since Adam hadn’t said anything, spoke up again.</p><p>“You can stay in the guest room, if you don’t wanna rub elbows on the living room couch,” Ronan proposed, less aggressively -- less sharply. “You can hole yourself up in there the way we both know you’d do at your apartment. Just stick around ‘til your court date. It’s fucking fine.”</p><p>For a moment, all there was was the wind outside and the chill of the kitchen tile under their feet.</p><p>“I don’t like this,” Adam eventually admitted, still staring into his coffee.</p><p>But he didn’t say no.</p><p>“Cool. Do you not like soup either, or can I talk you into that shit, too?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hey friends!!! once again, i am honored that ur reading :') it's been a few months since i've started this fic and to have people still tuned in is just -- wow!!!! thank you guys!! i know it's been a slow build, but i've had a lot of fun just musing about these characters and getting to write. knowing that i can share these words with people and make 'em feel something is the greatest thing in the world. i love u guys! &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0045"><h2>45. why do i stay?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>adam introspection, blue+noah+ronan text shenanigans, ronan at the supermarket*, and a lil bluesey scene :-)</p><p>also, robert parrish.*</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Needless to say, Adam had been reluctant to agree to stay. His pride, his ideals, his brain -- everything he knew, and everything he was, urged him to power through and get on a bus back to his apartment. That’s what he always did, after all: he powered through. He sucked it up. He ignored what hurt and he finished the job, did the homework, studied for the test.</p><p>For once, though? </p><p>Somehow, a part of him was actually convinced that he didn’t <em> need </em>to run himself into the ground. Not that time.</p><p>...But maybe he was just tired. Or maybe it was the way Ronan looked at him? Or, maybe, it was the grueling idea of sitting on an uncomfortable bus, too vigilant to sleep but too tired to feel awake. </p><p>Or maybe it really just was Ronan.</p><p>(It was probably all of the above.)</p><p><em> Don’t leave, </em>Ronan had said. Of course, what came after was still important, but--</p><p>
  <em> Don’t leave. </em>
</p><p>With how loudly they echoed in his head, it was as though he heard the words through both ears.</p><p>“You haven’t ‘talked’ me into staying. I don’t even have clothes here,” Adam eventually replied, and it made him feel like he was grasping at straws for a reason to not listen to Ronan -- for a reason to leave. Did he even want to leave? He didn’t know, he couldn’t tell. It made sense to stay; it didn’t make sense to stay. What he knew for sure was that borrowing clothes for the next week felt unsustainable, since he’d be relying on Ronan for too much as it were. And what if Adam got him -- or his brothers, when they arrived for Christmas -- sick? Not that he was sick. Just hypothetically.</p><p>...Adam shivered, despite the (admittedly threadbare) crewneck he was wearing.</p><p>Alright, so there was a slim chance that he was a bit sick.</p><p>How he picked up the bug, Adam didn’t exactly know. His best guess was that he shook one too many hands at the Gansey family’s winter gala. That, combined with how much time he and Ronan had spent walking and talking in the snow-blanketed garden, seemed to complete the picture: he caught a head cold from some old politician who was too concerned with his image to even consider missing an event hosted by the <em> Ganseys, </em> and it worsened in the cold weather. </p><p>Adam frowned into his coffee. At the very least, it was nice to not have school work or work shifts to factor into his decision. He did need to run his new schedule for the next semester by his boss at the mechanic, though, and also with the library, so as soon as he knew he could bear to look at a screen--</p><p>“--rish. Parrish? Christ. <em> Adam.” </em></p><p>Adam’s eyes snapped up at Ronan. He’d zoned out, but those two syllables on Ronan’s lips drew him right back in.</p><p>‘Adam,’ he’d said. </p><p>It dawned on him all over again, just how much more partial he was to “Adam” than he was to “Parrish.”</p><p>Ronan rapped his knuckles on the dining table, and slowly, Adam’s gaze traveled from source of sound to source of sound. Ronan’s mouth, then down to his hands, then back to his mouth again.</p><p>“Since your sick ass clearly didn’t hear me, I’ll say it again: cry about it,” Ronan said (repeated, apparently), while pointedly standing up from the table. Adam noticed the care with which he <em> didn’t </em> let the legs of his chair scrape against the creaking floorboards. That was the Ronan that raised a bird from infancy and babysat a little girl -- and somehow, that was also the Ronan that raised his fists against Robert Parrish. </p><p>For a while, Ronan just didn’t make sense to Adam: he was surly, but also undeniably considerate. He was tactless, but he was purposely tactless. There was deliberation in his sharpness -- really, there seemed to be intention behind everything he did. While Ronan used to strike Adam as somebody who just didn’t care, he now seemed like somebody who cared a lot. He just did so quietly.</p><p>Adam knew that his mistake was that he (foolishly) tried to separate Ronan's gentle behaviors from his aggressive ones. He tried to understand two different Ronans when really, there was only one, and the 'two' he suspected were one and the same.</p><p>Adam studied Ronan’s steely expression without responding.</p><p>“Come on,” Ronan said, lips turning down into a light scowl. Somehow, Adam could tell that it was half-hearted. “I’ll show you the guest room.”</p><p>Instead of rising with him, Adam remained seated. He asked, “Why?”</p><p>Why? It was always <em> why </em> with Adam, and it was always <em> why </em>because he always needed to know. Sometimes, his inability to be satisfied with not understanding was helpful, like when it came to school, but other times--</p><p>“‘Why’ what?” Ronan said, not bothering to turn around.</p><p>--Other times, it made things more confusing.</p><p><em> Why are you helping me? </em> Adam wanted to ask. <em> Why are you letting me stay? Why do you care? That’s what this is, isn’t it -- you care?  </em></p><p>His throat was dry. Whether that was because Ronan was staring at him, waiting for his answer, or because he was sick was up for debate. Still, Adam managed to swallow just enough to summon his voice.</p><p>“Why,” he repeated, choosing his next words carefully, “as in why are you doing this?”</p><p>It felt silly to ask, after everything Ronan had already done, but he couldn’t shake the question. Adam was also pretty sure that he asked Gansey the same thing, the day Ronan picked him up from his father’s house. He couldn’t stop asking why. </p><p>Ronan glanced over his shoulder.</p><p>“Why am I giving you a fuckin’ place to stay?” He responded, both sounding and looking unimpressed. “Dumbass question. Believe it or not, I’d do it for any of you.”</p><p>And maybe Adam was just hearing things, but at the same time when Ronan turned around, he might have heard Ronan add an <em> ‘especially you.’ </em></p><hr/><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> maggot </em>
</p><p>
  <em> maggot </em>
</p><p>
  <em> maggot </em>
</p><p>
  <em> maggot </em>
</p><p>
  <em> sarge </em>
</p><p>
  <em> sarge </em>
</p><p>
  <em> sarge </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> are we really doing this AGAIN </em>
</p><p>
  <em> always with the spamming </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> fucking fine  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ill just text noah or some shit </em>
</p><p>[ Blue has added Noah to the conversation. ]</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> or, consider: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> text us both! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> &gt;:) </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> you asshole </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> :00000  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> text us what!!! </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> he needs adam advice :) </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> i didnt say that </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> yeah well you needed some like three hours ago so of course you need more </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> oh FUCK </em>
</p><p>
  <em> OH fuck </em>
</p><p>
  <em> OH FUCK </em>
</p><p>
  <em> what about adam??? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> also. not that i’m not totally flattered but </em>
</p><p>
  <em> why are you asking us instead of gansey </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> because he’s gansey. duh </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> oh ok worm </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> gansey says “ouch” </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> he’s still fucking there??? </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> he slept over?! jealous </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i wanna have another sleepover with u guys :/ let’s do it after christmas so i don’t have to go home early ok </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> yes. he was choppin’ it up with my family this morning and now he won’t leave </em>
</p><p>
  <em> he said “i can leave if you’d really like me to” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> and then “are you typing everything i say?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> and also “hello noah!” </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> ganseyman! howdy </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> i read that in henry’s voice </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> heh me too </em>
</p><p>
  <em> should we add henry </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> shut up gansey </em>
</p><p>
  <em> and no because this was never supposed to be a group chat situation. jesus fuck </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> “all love, lynch” he says </em>
</p><p>
  <em> anyway tell us about adam </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> well now i dont fucking want to </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> cmon man </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i thought the three of us had something </em>
</p><p>
  <em> we’re bros, bro </em>
</p><p>
  <em> peach schnapps and cheeseburgers and sleeping in our cars bros :( </em>
</p><p>
  <em> hey why havent we done that again! </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> lynch </em>
</p><p>
  <em> lynch </em>
</p><p>
  <em> lynch </em>
</p><p>
  <em> lynch </em>
</p><p>
  <em> noah do it too </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> lynch </em>
</p><p>
  <em> lynch </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> lynch </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> lunch </em>
</p><p>
  <em> LYNCH </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> lunch. </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> noooo </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> god fuck shit okay just stop </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> oh so you can dish it but you can’t take it </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> is it weird to buy him underwear. </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> ………what does that mean </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> uh. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> wow.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> so u guys move fast </em>
</p><p>
  <em> where was i when these developments happened?? was this an overnight thing or am i that slow </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i mean i guess i did notice the .`~*tension*~`. yesterday but STILL </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> HAHAHAHA </em>
</p><p>
  <em> THE TENSIONDJDSjjk </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> oh my fucking </em>
</p><p>
  <em> shut the FUCK up sargent </em>
</p><p>
  <em> NO noah not like fucking lingerie you fucking shitheads what the hell </em>
</p><p>
  <em> he’s staying over and hes been borrowing clothes n shit but i think he feels some type of way about it </em>
</p><p>
  <em> and i gotta drive down to the supermarket anyway so i was thinking like </em>
</p><p>
  <em> idk </em>
</p><p>
  <em> is it fucking weird! to buy him underwear! </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> ooh eXcLaMaTiOn pOiNtS </em>
</p><p>
  <em> sorry ok sorry serious </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ahem. ahe he he he hem. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i think </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i think that’s actually really thoughtful of you, ronan. </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> blue you say that like ur surprised </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i been knew ronan was SOFT </em>
</p><p>
  <em> &gt;:)))))))) </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> ill throw you out of a window. i will literally throw you out of a window </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> oooo deja vu </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i feel like u have threatened to do that to me before </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> its not a threat its a promise </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> i say do it ronan </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> BLUE </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> the UNDERWEAR noah  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> not the window!!!! </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> oh! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> &lt;3 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> yeah i agree </em>
</p><p>
  <em> it makes sense tbh so it’s not even that weird </em>
</p><p>
  <em> its really &lt;3 sweet &lt;3 that you thought about that though </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> i dont know why i even asked you people </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i dont know why i even TALK to you people </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> “because you, my good man, are a lover” -- gansey </em>
</p><p>
  <em> hah im lying he didnt say that </em>
</p><p>
  <em> but it sounds like something he’d say though right </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> hey ya fooled me </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan has left the conversation. ]</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> his favorite color is gr </em>
</p><p>
  <em> wow </em>
</p><p>
  <em> jackass </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> man </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ronans awful nice for a mean person dontcha think </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> oh for sure </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> think adam knows? </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> i think so </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i sure hope so </em>
</p><hr/><p>After Adam stowed himself away in the guest room, Ronan took to his car and headed into town. As he expected, the local superstore was packed. It was as though the entire population turned out for twelfth hour shopping, given how small Henrietta was.</p><p>Jesus, Ronan Lynch hated the holidays.</p><p>But no, not quite in the annoying, cynical way broody male leads in hetero-ass Hallmark movies hated the holidays -- his particular flavor of hatred was something adjacent, and it was something more real. </p><p>Aurora Lynch had loved Christmas. And, when he was alive, Niall Lynch never missed Christmas. The Lynches always had a tree, they always went to mass, and they always -- always -- always had the right presents for each other. The holidays were time with family, and they were Matthew rolling out sugar cookies with their mother, and they were Ronan sitting with their father and listening to stories by the fireplace, and Declan sitting with them because he was interested, even if he pretended to be bored or too old for stories--</p><p>Ronan Lynch once loved the holidays. </p><p>Then he lost his parents.</p><p>But the Lynch brothers still celebrated without fail, because they were the only family they had left. In less than 24 hours, said brothers would be spending the holiday in their childhood home. It would be their first Christmas at the Barns without their parents, and their first Christmas at the Barns in five years.</p><p>A little anticipation still existed in Ronan, of course. For one thing, Declan and Matthew would be picking up a tree on their way down, and it would be their first real tree in half a decade. Declan always opted for plastic when they celebrated up in Washington because ‘pine needles and disposal services were a pain,’ much to Matthew’s disappointment. So, since they’d be at the Barns, Ronan had more say and he readily motioned in Matthew Lynch’s favor.</p><p>The thought of the tree reminded him: did he want to buy new ornaments or did he want to hassle himself with trying to excavate their old ones from the attic? Matthew would insist on dressing the tree together, as he always did, but Ronan didn’t know if the old memories would be too much to bear. Ronan also needed to get shit for them to cook and eat. Medicine for Adam, because the ibuprofen in the bathroom was probably expired. Soup, tissues, cough drops. He also needed to get Adam--</p><p>Underwear.</p><p>Christ.</p><hr/><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em> So </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> no no let me guess </em>
</p><p>
  <em> you’re still at the barns? </em>
</p><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em> Alone with Chainsaw, actually. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> How did you know? </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> lucky </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i’m psychic </em>
</p><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em> Ha ha. </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> :) </em>
</p><p>
  <em> what’s up </em>
</p><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em> Well, I’m sick, I think. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And Ronan’s being nice </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> only one of those things is unusual </em>
</p><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em> I wish I could argue </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> ?? why </em>
</p><p>[ Adam ]</p><p>
  <em> I think things would be easier. </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> what “things” </em>
</p><hr/><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> wow left on read </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i sure hope you just fell back asleep sir sicky </em>
</p><p>
  <em> gans says get well soon </em>
</p><hr/><p>Blue walked Gansey out of the reading room a full twenty dollars richer. As she intuited, Maura and Persephone and Calla drew the same three cards that Adam had: Page of Cups, Two of Cups, and Death, respectively. </p><p>She wanted Gansey’s money less when he revealed how ready he was to give it up, but a bet was a bet and she’d won it nonetheless. All three psychics looked pleased by Blue, though Calla retained that she should have raised the wager. Her snarl lightened when Gansey paid the women for the reading, since they were ‘running a business, after all.’ He even bought a bag of tea from Maura, as well as a crystal for his mother and a wire-wrapped pendant for his sister. Blue was surprised -- she didn’t think either of them would care for those things, but Gansey knew them better than she did. </p><p>(She begrudgingly supposed that, in the way Gansey had surprised her, his family was potentially capable of doing the same.)</p><p>To make things easier, Blue lent him her mushroom-painted tote bag for all of his purchases. Then, once all transactions were completed, Gansey thanked the women with a polite tip of his head and an even more polite expression of gratitude. When it came to saying goodbye to Blue--</p><p>Well, he looked awkward. She almost felt embarrassed <em> for </em>him.</p><p>“You can hug me,” she assured him, rolling her eyes at his hesitance, “it’s fine.”</p><p>“Hands where we can see them, Pretty Boy,” Calla snarked. Maura clicked her tongue at the remark and Persephone laughed, but her laugh sounded less like a laugh and more like wind.</p><p><em> Pretty Boy? </em>Gansey’s newly-mirthful expression said.</p><p><em> Shut up, </em>Blue’s scoff said.</p><p>They hugged. They hugged, and it was stiff at first -- both of them were acutely aware of their audience. Then it went from stiff to comfortable. Warm. Mint clung to the shoulder of his coat. Blue kept herself from pressing her face into the crook of his neck and closing her eyes. Too soon, it was over; too soon, they came apart.</p><p>“I suppose I will see you next year then, Jane,” Gansey said, grinning. She just snorted at him, opened the door, and jabbed her thumb towards his car.</p><p>“Gross, that's corny. Get out of my house,” Blue said, smiling just as broadly.</p><p>And he did.</p><p>But he turned around just a few steps out the door.</p><p>"You'll call?" He asked, shifting his weight between his legs, both looking and sounding hopeful.</p><p><em>Oh, help, </em>said her skipping heart.</p><p>Blue swept some hair behind her ear. "Meh. I'll think about it."</p><p>Gansey saluted and smiled, and they both knew she would.</p><hr/><p>It was bad enough that it was the day before Christmas Eve and Ronan was pushing a shopping cart through throngs of people buying last-minute dinner ingredients and panic presents. Somehow, though, things managed to get even worse.</p><p>It happened in the medicine aisle.</p><p>Ronan didn’t know if Adam was more of a honey and lemon or cherry cough drop kind of person. He knew that Gansey was a menthol-flavored cough drop person, just because he liked mint, but Ronan wasn’t so sure about Adam. As he crouched in front of the shelves and debated between brands and flavors--</p><p>“Thought I recognized your fuckin’ beemer in the lot.”</p><p>Red spilled into his vision and cold dread settled in the pit of Ronan’s stomach. It was as though he inhaled all of winter into his lungs. Hell to pay </p><p>Honey and lemon was the safer option, in the same way not looking up and not engaging with Robert Parrish was also the safer option. Ronan wasn't fucking stupid -- he knew that if some shit went down, Adam would have Hell to pay at his hearing. Robert would spin some bullshit about facing 'unprovoked aggression' by one of Adam's friends and, even without witnesses, it would tip the case in Parrish's favor because court systems and laws were fucking bullshit and--</p><p>He couldn't lay Adam's father on his ass, no matter how much he fucking wanted to.</p><p>
  <em> For Adam, for Adam, for Adam. </em>
</p><p>“What, are you goddamn deaf now?” Robert snarled, stepping closer. Ronan’s resentment multiplied. Fury had branded his brain with the image of Adam on the ground and Robert standing over him, and fury brought it back to the forefront of his memory. <em> I’m not deaf, </em> he wanted to say, <em> but Adam is in one ear. And it’s your fucking fault.  </em></p><p>The words clawed themselves into the bones of his chest.</p><p>He didn’t say them.</p><p>(Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Adam would be more partial to cherry.)</p><p>“You sure weren’t deaf when you went sticking your nose in my business,” he said, raising his voice. Ronan still hadn’t looked up, but he could imagine that people were ushering their children away. “You know how much bullshit I gotta deal with ‘cause of you? You oughta be thankful that I don’t teach you some proper respect right here, some damn discipline. Rich punk.”</p><p>Ronan couldn’t find it in him to even smirk at how stupid Robert sounded, thinking that he could actually win a fight against him. Ronan Lynch had a swing like fire and brimstone, like a glass bottle smashed into a skull, like a metal baseball bat connecting with teeth. He knew that Robert was bluffing, too, given the way that he hadn’t dared to get any closer to Ronan than a few feet.</p><p>Most of Ronan’s mind was still elsewhere, though, and it was violently reeling about more important things.</p><p>(Adam.)</p><p>Though the words harmlessly bounced off of Ronan, it made him wonder: what had it been like for Adam, who had grown up with the fucking monster of a man? Had things always been like that for him? If Parrish was so fine with chewing out some random motherfucker in a grocery store, how much worse was he behind a closed door? Was that why Adam was so hesitant about being cared about? Ronan started to feel like--</p><p>He started to feel like he understood a little bit more about Adam.</p><p>(Both flavors. He’d just get both. Maybe a menthol one, too, just in case Adam had the same taste as Gansey.)</p><p>Robert Parrish kept spitting insults as Ronan got up and tossed the bags of cough drops into his already-full cart. He closed his fists around the handlebar, but what we really wanted to do was close them around Parrish Senior’s throat. If he acted, though, Adam could have a harder time with his trial, so Ronan couldn’t -- but he really wanted to just -- God -- shit, fucking bastard, goddamn asshole--</p><p>“You weren’t raised right, were you, boy?"</p><p>What the fuck did he think did he knew about raising children?<br/><br/>"Idiot kid."</p><p>How many times did he call Adam that? How young was Adam the first time he heard it? What other terrible things did Parrish call his son?</p><p>"Nobody ever gave you a proper beating, I can tell."</p><p>Ronan had fought plenty of people. He wanted Robert to properly become one of them.<br/><br/>"You never learned that you owe a real man some goddamn respect.”</p><p>Did Parrish teach Adam respect, or did he just teach him fear?</p><p>It just about killed Ronan to stay silent, but he did. This meant that the insults kept coming -- insults that Ronan imagined a younger Adam, an uncertain Adam, a <em>trapped </em>Adam, having to struggle against. Stupid. Stupid. Useless. Waste. Stupid. Waste. Useless. <em>Useless.</em></p><p>One of them was something Ronan never wanted to hear from a father. Adam's father, anyone, his own, Declan, anyone--</p><p>Fuck.</p><p><em> Fuck  </em>that. Fuck Robert Parrish. Fuck everything about him.</p><p>He wished that he was back at the Barns with Adam.</p><p>Ronan didn’t wince, didn’t grimace, didn’t even blink. He considered how satisfying it would be to send Robert Parrish flying back into one of the aisle shelves, but he knew that he'd be better off in prison. Stuck somewhere that he couldn't reach Adam. Ronan couldn't fuck that up for Adam -- he wouldn't fuck that up for Adam -- he <em>refused</em> to fuck that up for Adam--</p><p>Ronan found a bottle of aspirin on the shelf, took a breath and, for Adam, left Robert Parrish at the mouth of the medicine aisle. He originally didn’t think that he was capable of walking away from the fight.</p><p>It just so happened that thinking of Adam made the impossible seem easy.</p><hr/><p>Adam had tried to get some sleep while Ronan was gone -- he hadn’t realized just how fatigued he felt until his head hit the pillow. Despite the way his temperature uncomfortably oscillated between too cold and too hot, eventually, he managed to fall asleep. It was just about an hour later when the sound of creaking floorboards and Ronan's return made him stir, so after blinking the heaviness from his eyes, Adam fought through his headache and went downstairs. He found Ronan shuttling groceries inside, and naturally, he tried to put on his shoes to help bring things in. It was the least he could do.</p><p>Ronan stopped him short.</p><p>“You’re <em> sick. </em>You're not going out there,” he snapped, brows furrowed. Then, more gently: “But there’s a, uh, some shit in the kitchen for you. By the way.”</p><p>Adam opened his mouth to protest. First, Ronan had sounded the most uncertain that Adam’s ever heard him sound. Second, and more importantly, he hadn’t asked Ronan to buy him anything, so--</p><p>"I--"</p><p>“Don’t, Adam,” Ronan said, shaking his head before ducking back outside.</p><p>...Well.</p><p>Equal parts curious and apprehensive, Adam padded into the kitchen. There were already a few bags on the counter, but some of them were set aside on the dining table. Adam stepped up and started sifting through the contents within one of the bags, already mentally racking up a tally of what everything costed: a box of tissues, various flavors of cough drops. A box of tea, cough medicine, a bottle of aspirin. Nothing of the generic store brand name, which added several more cents to each item. The total cost so far was somewhere in the twenty-five or thirty ballpark. In the other bag--</p><p>Adam’s face flushed, and the flustered feeling made him forget about the guilt and shame of indebtedness.</p><p>He gingerly removed a package of plain boxers from the bag. The purchase was practical and sensible, but for some reason: also a bit awkward. Except it was also thoughtful -- beyond thoughtful, even. It was careful, it was considerate, it was…</p><p>It was, as he had texted Blue earlier, <em>nice.</em></p><p>It felt like an indicator of just how much Ronan had actually considered the prospect of having him stay, and it made him feel a strange blend of more and less pitiful; more and less unwelcome. Oddly enough, Adam still had to press his mouth shut to keep himself from cracking a smile. He wanted to text Blue about it. God -- why did he want to text Blue about it? It was just underwear. Ronan didn't mean anything by it other than 'it'd be fucking nasty if you wore the same ones for like a week. Duh.'</p><p>Duh, Adam. </p><p>Adam blinked and sniffed and refocused. Right. Math, he was doing math. He was trying to get an estimate of how much he needed to give Ronan to pay him back. Also inside of the second bag, there were socks, two pairs of sweats, and a couple of shirts. Easily another -- what, forty? Fifty? Ronan happened to walk back into the kitchen with another load of groceries just as Adam held one of said shirts up. The fabric was heathered red, it was (thankfully) not a V-neck, and on the front--</p><p>Adam laughed. It hurt his chest a bit, and it was more breath than anything else, but it was still a laugh.</p><p>“Hey,” he said, his amusement creeping into his tone. Ronan was already looking in his direction.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“So not that I'm complaining, but can I ask what made you pick out a <em> Coca-Cola </em> shirt?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hello! it simply must be known that i love you all immensely. thank you for your support and encouragement &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 i appreciate your guys' kindness and patience! i will respond to last chapter's comments asap :')</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0046"><h2>46. why do i stay? (ii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>ronan gets back to the barns and blue gets a phone call :-)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So not that I’m complaining, but can I ask what made you pick out a <em> Coca-Cola </em>shirt?”</p><p>Ronan raised an eyebrow.</p><p>That was the question he was asking first? Ronan just grabbed whatever looked like it would fit, but he was interested in Adam’s gripe. “Fuck’s wrong with a Coca-Cola shirt?”</p><p>“I mean, nothing’s wrong with it. I just didn’t expect it,” Adam said, shaking his head as he searched the item for a tag. Ronan knew he would, though, and when he sorted Adam’s shit out into separate bags before coming inside, he made sure to rip the price off of everything he bought. The tags and plastic strands were buried in his jeans pockets. Out of Adam’s reach. Beyond his need to live eye-for-eye. “But then again, I didn’t expect any of this,” he continued. “I didn’t -- I didn’t ask for any of this.”</p><p><em> There </em> -- there it was. That was what Ronan was expecting him to say. </p><p>“You said you didn’t have any clothes here,” Ronan pointed out. “Now you do.”</p><p>Adam shook his head. “That wasn’t me telling you to go buy me clothes.”</p><p>“Yeah. I know.”</p><p>Adam looked unsatisfied -- maybe even a bit annoyed -- with Ronan’s brick wall answers as he searched the pile of clothes. Ronan knew that he shouldn’t have found it funny, but when Adam got frustrated, he knitted his brows and -- and bit the inside of his mouth, maybe? One fine hollow on the side of his face would get more prominent when he was thinking, and Ronan could only imagine that it was because he was pensively clamping his teeth down on his cheek.</p><p>He had to remind himself to not stare.</p><p>Ronan eventually looked away from Adam and just kept unpacking groceries. Milk, bread, eggs, other kitchen staples  -- and vegetables that he resented having to <em> buy </em>, since he had the farm back. He was already thinking about farmwork and spring just couldn’t come soon enough.</p><p>Eventually, Adam spoke up again.</p><p>“Would you at least tell me how much I owe you?” He said, clearly exasperated with the fact that he still couldn’t find a single price tag. </p><p><em> (Because I owe you, </em> Adam had said on the evening they spent at Gansey’s. Ronan scowled with a newly-inspired resentment for the three words, because he knew that one shithead Parrish was the person who scarred Adam. <em> You owe me, </em> Robert probably told his son, for so much as giving Adam a chance to breathe between swings. <em> You owe me. You owe me.) </em></p><p>...Ronan wondered if he should tell Adam that he ran into his father at the superstore, or if it would be better to just omit the detail. Was lying by omission still lying? Was it lying if it didn’t come up to begin with? Ronan wondered if Adam would let him go to the court hearing. He wondered if Adam would even let Ronan drive him there.</p><p>God, he wanted to be there for him.</p><p>(This, he knew, was just the start.)</p><p>“You don’t owe me anything,” Ronan said, turning partially to look him dead in the eye. Adam looked caught off-guard, but the surprise melted out of his eyes in moments. Or maybe he just looked like he was about to sneeze? Ronan couldn’t tell, but it was one of those two things.</p><p>“I’d rather just pay you back now,” Adam insisted. </p><p>“There’s nothing to pay back, I just told you.”</p><p>“Look, I get it,” Adam sighed, dragging a hand down his face. He was a bit paler than usual -- his sepia photograph-self, faded. “You’re rich, I get it. That’s why you don’t care. But I don’t need your money.”</p><p>Ronan scowled. It wasn’t that he didn’t care -- it was that he did. A lot. “I’m not giving you <em> money.” </em></p><p>“This is essentially the same thing,” Adam said, gesturing to the shopping bags. “Just tell me what you spent.”</p><p>“I don’t want you to pay me back.”</p><p>“I don’t want to owe you.”</p><p>“You don’t.”</p><p>“Don’t I?”</p><p>“I just fucking--”</p><p>Ronan stopped himself short when he realized that he’d raised his voice. He started over after a breath.</p><p>“I just said that you don’t owe me shit. That’s not what this is, Adam,” Ronan countered, unwavering.</p><p>A moment passed.</p><p>“Then what is it, Ronan?” Adam asked, voice soft and fingers curled into the heathered red shirt in front of him. </p><p>He badly wanted to close his hand over Adam's.</p><p>Ronan opened his mouth just as the doorbell rang.</p><hr/><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> blue </em>
</p><p>
  <em> blue </em>
</p><p>
  <em> blue </em>
</p><p>
  <em> bluuuuue </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> oh god not you too </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> blue!!!! </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> howdy champ </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> send cat pictures :(? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i miss cups </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> oh noah </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> :( please :( </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> yeah okay hold on </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i gotta figure out where he is </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> thank u love u!!!!! </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> love you too :) </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> man </em>
</p><p>
  <em> you are the only one who says it back </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> well, i’m not surprised </em>
</p><p>
  <em> emotionally repressed men, all four of em </em>
</p><p>[ Blue has sent an attachment. ]</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> cups!!!!! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i love cups thank you for bringing cups into my life </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> cups loves you too!! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> you were definitely his favorite last night </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> even though gansey was around much longer? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> HA HA OH GEE… WHAT A SEGUE……..SPEAKING OF g a n s ey…….. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘,:) </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘,;) </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> oh stop that </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> ‘,;))))) </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> no </em>
</p><p>
  <em> put that away </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> what!!!! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> come on i just didn’t know he was spending the night </em>
</p><p>
  <em> did u guys talk the whole time or WHAT bro </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> well, we talked a lot? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> not nearly as much as you and henry did, though. </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> listen. listen. while we did chat a bunch there was no sleepover ma’am </em>
</p><p>
  <em> wait is gansey still there? </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> naw </em>
</p><p>
  <em> he just left actually </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> &lt;/3 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ^ us when our crushes leave </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> maybe you! i never said i had a “crush” on gansey </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> don’t you though??? </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> i mean, i like HIM, but i don’t like the word “crush.” </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> but crushes are fun </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> so YOU admit it? you have a crush on henry? </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> ??? obviously, dude. get with the ‘gram </em>
</p><p>
  <em> (program not instagram) </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> thanks for the clarification </em>
</p><p>
  <em> you gonna tell him? </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> eventually </em>
</p><p>
  <em> are u? </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> maybe eventually </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> neat keep me posted </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ,,,,,,,,so who’s gonna crack first, ronan or adam </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> ronan bc the man’s a SIMP </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> is there something so wrong with simping :( </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> not inherently, he just obviously really likes adam </em>
</p><p>
  <em> why? are YOU simping, noah? </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> honestly?? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> so much. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> he just makes me smile man </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> wow. that is so soft i could puke </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> look!!! i just think about him a lot </em>
</p><p>
  <em> well i think of all of you but him especially </em>
</p><p>
  <em> is it gay to think of your homie all day </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> in your case? super </em>
</p><p>
  <em> but, i’ll admit……… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> it’s sweet </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i GUESS </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> :’) </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i love the family but i keep thinkin abt going back to school and bein with you guys </em>
</p><p>
  <em> we’re gonna skate more right </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> yes!  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> the others should come! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> and you should charm henry with your pop shuv-it </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> YEAH </em>
</p><p>
  <em> wait. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> WELL. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> crushes + skateparks makes for a dicey equation </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> wym </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> like. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i mean </em>
</p><p>
  <em> just </em>
</p><p>
  <em> what if i fall, y’know </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> noah.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> we met because we both fell directly onto our asses and you liked me just fine </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> well sure but it’s just different </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> n o a h . </em>
</p><p>
  <em> you’re a super cool skater boy n i’m sure henry knows that, if that’s what this is about </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> :’)  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> love u blue </em>
</p><hr/><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> aw what  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> where did u go </em>
</p><p>
  <em> you didnt say it back </em>
</p><p>
  <em> :( </em>
</p><hr/><p>Before Blue could respond to Noah, her screen lit up with an incoming call from a number that she didn’t recognize. The location beneath the number?</p><p>Washington, DC.</p><p>...Huh.</p><p>Knowing it couldn’t possibly be Gansey, Blue tentatively accepted the call and pressed her cell to her ear. It was terrible timing, though -- she still owed Noah a “love you too,” so she tried to not sound so annoyed about being interrupted. </p><p>The line clicked and she spoke first. “Hello?”</p><p>(Of course, she still sounded a bit peeved -- she always did.)</p><p>“Blue Sargent?”</p><p>Blue’s eyebrows went from furrowed to raised. Based on the old Virginia accent of the lilting voice on the line, the unidentified caller was definitely not Gansey -- but it was definitely <em> a </em>Gansey. </p><p>“Who is this?” She half-asked, half-demanded.</p><p>“Helen,” the woman on the other line said, “Helen Gansey. We’ve not properly met, but the pleasure is mine.”</p><hr/><p>Adam followed Ronan as he went to open the door. When it swung open--</p><p>“Gentlemen,” Gansey said, smiling brightly -- and sounding far too chipper for the Henrietta winter, in Adam’s opinion. Ronan stepped aside and let him in, and like clockwork, the two of them bumped knuckles before Gansey even unwrapped his scarf from around his neck. </p><p>“The fuck are you doing here, man?” Ronan said, and though it was a bit snappish, Adam knew that he always spoke with fondness when it came to Gansey. All bark, no bite.</p><p>“Well, I texted you both about driving up from Jane’s. When I didn’t receive a response, I thought I’d check in anyway.” He held up a take-out bag as he stepped out of his boots. “I’ve brought compensation for my presence, naturally.”</p><p>For a glimmer of a moment, he understood Gansey.</p><p>“Fuck off,” Ronan said -- again, not unkindly. He took the bag as Gansey shed his coat. Promptly after hanging it up, he stepped towards Adam with the same easy smile and the same extended fist.</p><p>“Good to see you, Adam,” he said, and though Adam knew Gansey meant for them to knock knuckles too, Adam held up a hand and stepped back.</p><p>“I’ve got a bug,” he said. “Best to keep your distance.”</p><p>Gansey looked a little disappointed as he dropped his hand. </p><p>Adam almost felt bad.</p><p>“Ah, I heard as much,” Gansey responded. Adam wondered from who, if Ronan hadn’t texted him back? But it was a bit much for his brain, a bit much for him to bother thinking through. “Terribly sorry about that. I trust Ronan isn’t giving you too much hell for it?”</p><p>“The opposite, actually.” He stole a glance at Ronan and added a facetious, “Surprisingly.”</p><p>Gansey seemed downright gleeful. “Surprisingly,” he echoed, sounding not at all surprised. But before Ronan could even sneer, he pivoted the conversation. “Is Declan driving down tonight?”</p><p>“Tomorrow,” Ronan replied. </p><p>“Give him my regards once I’m gone, would you?”</p><p>Ronan scoffed. “Pass. Also, way to make it sound like you’re gonna fucking die, dumbass.”</p><p>“Well, then Matthew, at least?”</p><p>“Maybe.”</p><p>As the two of them talked, Adam took it as his opportunity to head back upstairs. There was no point in exposing Gansey’s to his cold, and he could do well with a little more sleep, so--</p><p>“Ah, Parrish,” Gansey said, gesturing to the kitchen with another one of those disappointed frown, “you won’t be joining us for lunch?”</p><p>Adam blinked. He didn’t assume that he was invited.</p><p>“I--”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, you’re sick,” Ronan droned. “Eat anyway, asshole.”</p><p>“I would have put it a bit more gallantly, but I suppose that’s one way of saying it,” Gansey sighed.</p><p>Ronan jerked his head towards the kitchen and they all followed -- it was there that Ronan unpacked the bag of food Gansey had brought. As he put out plastic quarts of soup and noodles with various proteins and vegetables, Adam hastily shoved department store clothes back into their bags to make room on the dining table. Gansey brought out bowls and utensils. Adam thought he recognized the food as pho from the Vietnamese place across from Boyd’s Auto, because his boss used to pick up soup in the winter.</p><p>(He was slingshotted back into the job he held when he was still in high school. How many times did Adam consider taking his lunch break at that restaurant, only to resign himself to the meager sandwiches he brought from home? Too many to count.)</p><p>“I hope this is alright. I had to ask Jane for a restaurant ideal for the weather,” Gansey remarked, setting the dishware on the table.</p><p>Adam bit his tongue from saying that he didn’t have to bring anything for him and just managed a grateful smile. It was another twenty dollars, though, on top of what he owed Ronan--</p><p>Ronan’s shoulder brushed against his as he planted himself into a seat beside Gansey.</p><p>“You can stop hovering,” he quietly grumbled in Adam’s good ear when he passed. Gansey didn’t seem to notice.</p><p>Adam felt his temperature rise all over again, but he did sit down.</p><p>“You know, there’s something I wanted to propose to the two of you,” Gansey said, pushing containers of soup broth and egg noodles in front of each of them. “Just a thought, of course.”</p><p>“Sirens on,” Ronan deadpanned, “he’s been thinking.”</p><p>Adam felt like he owed Gansey more courtesy. “Thinking about what?”</p><p>“Ye of little faith,” Gansey said, dismissing Ronan’s ‘little faith’ with a sweep of his hand. “Listen. How do the two of you feel about ringing in the New Year together?”</p><p>“Christ. Nobody under the age of thirty says ‘ringing in the New Year,’” Ronan pointed out. Gansey looked chagrined. </p><p>“Well, I just did.”</p><p>“Exactly, Grampsey.”</p><p><em> “Grampsey!” </em> He repeated, sounding scandalized. Then he looked to Adam. “Adam, please. Some actual input for this conversation.”</p><p>“I guess it depends,” Adam said. “On where everyone is, on whether or not people have plans with their families.”</p><p>If he weren’t used to not spending the holidays away from his parents, he would have winced.</p><p>Ronan cut in before Gansey could respond.</p><p>“Declan and Matthew won’t be here though the rest of the month, ‘cause Declan’s been a little bitch about honoring our dad’s will and doesn’t wanna risk overstaying.”</p><p>Adam frowned. Just the day before, Ronan told him that his father’s will forbade him from properly moving back in, but Ronan had also said that he didn’t intend on ditching his apartment with Gansey anyway. Still, Adam worried a bit -- was he the one overstaying? He couldn’t be, since Ronan made it clear that he was welcome, but…</p><p>“Worst case scenario, we see each other again in January, I suppose,” Gansey lamented. “No matter -- it was wishful thinking, after all. I imagine Noah and Heny and Jane’s families are all keen on spending time with them, anyhow.”</p><p>Ronan quirked a brow. “What, like yours isn’t?”</p><p>Gansey swiftly asked him to pass over a set of chopsticks instead of responding. Adam noticed, wondered why, and watched as Gansey slipped the chopsticks out of their paper sleeve and tried to neatly snap them apart, only to end up with uneven ones. He inspected them, but ultimately didn’t seem to mind too much.</p><p>Ronan, on the other hand, paused in the dumping his noodles into his bowl. He looked at Gansey, then at Adam -- Adam, who was stuffy-nosed and a little cold and a little warm and too tired to be more of a conversationalist.</p><p>Ronan ultimately didn’t say anything either. He just nudged Adam’s foot under the table, then proceeded to pour soup over his noodles. All Adam saw were the sharp lines of his profile, eased by Gansey’s presence.</p><p>...Adam stared down at the food that Gansey bought -- for him. </p><p>Then he glanced at the bag of clothes that Ronan bought -- for him.</p><p>When did Adam Parrish end up with friends?</p><p>(And what was Ronan going to say before Gansey showed up?)</p><hr/><p>The pleasure sure was Helen’s, because it certainly wasn’t Blue’s. Not at first, at least -- but, for civility’s sake, she did try to be open-minded. Her curiosity definitely helped.</p><p>“Okay,” Blue responded, rolling off of her bed to start pacing the room. “So you got my number how? And you’re calling because?”</p><p>“Checking Dick’s phone, naturally,” Helen replied smoothly. Blue didn’t know what was more striking: the fact that she called him Dick without sounding like she was making fun of him, or that she looked through his contacts for her number. “Your name is under ‘Jane,’ by the way. Oh, he’s not there, is he? He texted that he left, but I’d like to be sure."</p><p>“No, he did leave.” Blue rolled her eyes, albeit while feeling <em> kind of </em> endeared. Of course her name was ‘Jane’ on his phone. “You haven’t answered my second question.”</p><p>It sounded like Helen laughed a bit. “All business, I see. Well, I respect it. I’m calling because I was wondering what it would take to convince you to visit Washington this holiday.”</p><p>Blue stopped pacing.</p><p>“You’re wondering what, exactly?”</p><p>“I’m assuming you’re just interested in having me elaborate,” Helen continued. “So: I’ve been at a loss as to how to surprise Dick this year, but with how much he’s talked of you, I thought it’d be a lovely idea to invite you over for dinner. He’s told us that your family doesn’t celebrate, so I was hoping that you’d be free? Of course, if you’d like to come, I’ll happily fetch you myself in our helicopter, or organize a driver to--”</p><p>“<em> Excuse </em>you?”</p><p>Blue’s jaw had dropped in the middle of her response, but it had taken her a long moment to gather herself, her thoughts, her words. They whirled in her brain, and though Helen couldn’t see her, Blue shook her head and stomped a circle around her room.</p><p>“I--”</p><p>“No, no, no. Hold on,” Blue said, exasperated. Appalled, even! Affronted, offended, disgusted-- “Hold on. Are you -- are you trying to <em> give me </em>to your brother for Christmas?”</p><p>There was no beat before Helen’s response. “Dear God, no. Nothing like that. My intention wasn’t to imply that you’re his <em> present </em>, I--”</p><p>She scoffed, effectively cutting Helen off. “It sure sounded like that was what you were implying.” But Helen picked up right where she stopped short.</p><p>“--merely wanted to see if you’d like to have dinner with us. Our parents adore the idea and--”</p><p>“You said you wanted to surprise Gansey.”</p><p>“Gansey?”</p><p>“Dick. Whatever.”</p><p>“...Right.” Helen pressed on. “Having you over would be a surprise for him, but let me be clear: you’d be a guest -- not a gift. Of course, your presence would be a present, but--”</p><p>“That’s awfully hokey.”</p><p>“Not charmingly mawkish?”</p><p>“Huh. You sure are Gansey’s sister.”</p><p>Helen gave another sort-of laugh. “Well -- in any case, at least consider? Our mother regrets not having gotten the chance to properly meet you, and I feel similarly.”</p><p>Blue pursed her lips.</p><p>“Can I ask why you want me to come?” Last she heard, Helen didn’t seem to fond of the things that Blue had to say.</p><p>Helen sighed.</p><p>“When he told us about you and the rest of your friends, he lit up in a way that we haven’t seen him do in years now,” she said, a bit softer. “And I considered reaching out to all of you, but I assumed that they had their own family gatherings happening. However, since yours doesn’t celebrate Christmas -- or so I’m told -- I thought you’d be available.”</p><p>Blue looked to her desk, where the little tree mirror from the antique shop was perched -- right alongside a Polaroid from the night before. Her heart skipped a beat when it remembered how <em> full </em>she felt when she was with them. In the photograph, Noah and Henry were surrounded by 300 Fox Way’s cats, Adam was in the middle of sneezing, Ronan was looking at Adam, and Gansey was tentatively feeding Chainsaw a pizza crust.</p><p>She stepped back enough to flop back onto her bed.</p><p>“Hello? Blue?”</p><p>“I’m here,” Blue said, closing her eyes. “So you said that this is supposed to be a surprise for Gansey? I can’t just tell him to turn around now?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hello folks !!! thank u for tuning in again &lt;3 i hope you're all doing well! huge shout out to so many wonderful people who have brought many many smiles 2 my days: shakespearewrotefanfic, spibby, liebes, grumpysunset, stickinsect, jace_dean, and everyone who has ever left a comment!!! you guys are lovely beyond words and hearing from you always makes my heart warm. i appreciate you, my friends :')</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0047"><h2>47. why do i stay? (iii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>the sickfic continues, but adam gets a bit worse. ronan is there for him, though, because of course he is.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Adam tried to tough out the entirety of Gansey’s visit -- he really did. It was just hard to participate in the conversation when his head had grown progressively heavier and after his chills kicked back in, so after an apology latent with genuine guilt, Adam packed up his leftovers, stuck them in the fridge, and retreated back up to the guest room.</p><p>He was still awake when he heard Gansey leave, and he was still awake when Ronan came upstairs.</p><p>“I’m surprised you didn’t shove a twenty down his throat,” Ronan deadpanned from the doorway. Adam didn’t have much strength to do much more than scoff in response, so he didn’t bother to turn onto his other side to face Ronan.</p><p>“I didn’t need to. I have his Venmo,” Adam reported. He found it when he sent Blue money for the messenger bag she bought him, and he’d already sent Gansey twenty dollars for the food he brought.</p><p>Ronan didn’t say anything, but Adam could feel him frowning at the back of his head.</p><p>Another silent moment passed. Adam craned his neck to see if Ronan was even still there -- and he was. Leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, Ronan was there. Frowning. Eyes narrowed. He didn’t look angry, though -- he seemed…</p><p>Pensive.</p><p>With a great amount of effort, Adam pushed himself to sit upright in bed. His head protested, but he did so anyway.</p><p>“What?” He asked Ronan.</p><p>Ronan’s frown just deepened.</p><p><em> “What?” </em> Adam insisted, reaching up to make sure his hair didn’t look as awful as it did earlier that morning.</p><p>“I think,” Ronan eventually started, “that you should just let someone do something nice for you for once.” Adam promptly opened his mouth to protest, but Ronan cut back in. “Without throwing a goddamn fit about making it up to them.”</p><p>Adam pinched the bridge of his nose. It felt like an awfully Gansey thing to do. “What’s next, Lynch? Are you going to tell me that an eye for an eye only makes the world blind?”</p><p>“Fuck no, that’s cliche as shit. And I’m offended that you even suspected that I would say something like that.”</p><p>Adam managed a tiny smile despite himself.</p><p>Unfortunately, it fell fairly quickly when he remembered what Ronan was telling him.</p><p>In his defense, Adam <em> had </em>been better about that. Not only was he taking up space at the Barns, but he caught a ride with Ronan back to Henrietta and up to Washington without offering to pay for gas. He only sent Blue’s money back to her twice before giving up. He borrowed Ronan’s clothes, used his coffee grounds, actually ate pizza that he didn’t pay for at Fox Way -- what more did Ronan want from him? Adam didn’t know how much he could take, literally, before the debts stacked too tall for him to manage. His stomach lurched at the very idea of owing anyone more than fifteen, twenty dollars.</p><p>Like -- actually lurched.</p><p>...Fuck. <em> Fuck</em>.</p><p>“I think I’m going to be sick,” Adam slurred, voice suddenly hoarse. A wave of nausea rolled through him, rendering him still for a spell. Ronan raised an eyebrow at him.                                  </p><p>“Uh, news flash. You’re <em> definitely </em> sick, Einstein.”</p><p>“No,” Adam said, throwing the covers off of his legs to stagger towards the door -- towards a wide-eyed Ronan. “I think I’m <em> going to be sick.” </em></p><p>“Oh. Oh, shit--”</p><hr/><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> HI </em>
</p><p>
  <em> SORRY </em>
</p><p>
  <em> hi i’m so sorry </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i love you too hi </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> oh thank god you’re alive </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i was worried something happened to u </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> good assumption to make because very few things will keep me from saying it back </em>
</p><p>
  <em> but also </em>
</p><p>
  <em> something did happen </em>
</p><p>
  <em> kind of. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> sorta. </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> wh </em>
</p><p>
  <em> what does that even mean </em>
</p><p>
  <em> dish immediately </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> gansey’s sister called. </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> OH? </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> and invited me to spend christmas with their family </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> O H ????? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> blue blue blue blue you said yes right </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> i didn’t say no </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> aw what </em>
</p><p>
  <em> you should totally go!!! </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> you have to admit that it’s a bit awkward. </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> not as awkward as buying your crush underwear, bro. </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> NOAH </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ] </p><p>
  <em> LOOK I’M GLAD HE DID BUT I’M RIGHT </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> ….yeah you are </em>
</p><p>
  <em> listen. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> to be fair, i’m not scared, or anything, of meeting his parents </em>
</p><p>
  <em> and i’ll say whatever i want about because i always do, duh </em>
</p><p>
  <em> but i think it’ll still be … strange </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> youd go feral being alone in a house of rich white republicans wouldnt u </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> completely </em>
</p><p>
  <em> fucking </em>
</p><p>
  <em> feral. </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> okay but consider: thats HILARIOUS </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> gansey probably wont appreciate it if i yell at his mom!!! </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> im kinda surprised that matters </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> because it doesnt, mostly. if he doesn’t like what i believe in, that’s his problem. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> but i don’t want to break up the band, y’know? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> make things weird between ronan and adam or whatever whenever we all hang out </em>
</p><p>
  <em> you guys are important. </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> bro. blue. bro. band? holy shit. we should start a band. what the fuck. dude </em>
</p><p>
  <em> SORRY back on topic but seriously please consider it let’s start a band </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ahem </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i really don’t think gansey would let that happen. the awkward in the group part that is </em>
</p><p>
  <em> plus if he invited u then im sure he considered what could happen u dig </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> no like </em>
</p><p>
  <em> his sister invited me because it would be a surprise to him </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> blue. blue </em>
</p><p>
  <em> blue. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> blue </em>
</p><p>
  <em> blue this is a hallmark movie in the making </em>
</p><p>
  <em> you HAVE to go </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> pshaw!!!!! i knew you’d say that </em>
</p><p>
  <em> you’re such a romantic </em>
</p><p>
  <em> how many holiday movies have you seen this year? </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> a lot. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> henry’s smile &lt;3 his laugh &lt;3 the way he gives everyone nicknames &lt;3333 i could go on </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> guh. please do, actually </em>
</p><p>
  <em> get my mind off of potentially riding in a helicopter </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> OFF WHAT </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> no no just gush about henry </em>
</p><p>
  <em> please sir PRONTO SIR </em>
</p><p>[ Noah ]</p><p>
  <em> fine FINE fine fine finefinefine  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ….wanna see the playlist he made me </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> what the hell. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> frankly i’m offended that you didn’t show me as soon as you got it??  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> YES i want to see it </em>
</p><hr/><p>When Ronan returned to the bathroom with a glass of water and a mug of tea in either hand, he found Adam slumped against the wall of the tub, still beside the toilet. He looked even more awful: eyes closed with shadows swooping under them, skin pale, lips parted with labored breath. His hand was holding his head, which concealed most of his face from Ronan, but he had still been able to make out some of his features. </p><p>Ronan’s heart twisted with the idea of Adam alone at his apartment like this, rather than with him at the Barns.</p><p>He quietly crossed the short length of the bathroom and crouched in front of him.</p><p>“Water or tea?” He murmured. Adam’s eyes fluttered open. He took the water, so Ronan put the tea on the counter, then settled himself against the cabinets beneath the sink -- just across from Adam. Ronan noticed, though, that the Lysol and bathroom cleaner usually kept in the corner behind the toilet was just out of Adam’s reach, which meant that in the time it took for Ronan to get water and make tea, Adam had blown chunks <em> and </em>cleaned the toilet afterward. The fucking loser. The goddamn asshole.</p><p>...It was sort of disgusting, given the fact that Adam was sick and just puked, but Ronan still wanted to kiss him.</p><p>He scrubbed a hand over his head to dismiss the feeling, the thought, the ache. Adam cradled the water in his hands and hung his head and--</p><p>“Sorry,” he muttered.</p><p>But Ronan didn’t have any gasoline left for him.</p><p>“You don’t have to be sorry,” Ronan said, still searching for the right words. He remembered the warmth of his childhood: his mother holding him after a nightmare, Matthew’s hugs -- even Declan’s buzzkill reminders to stop playing and eat lunch had been charged with a tenderness that Adam never tasted. Robert Parrish’s words echoed in his head. “You <em> shouldn’t </em> be sorry.”</p><p>Based on Adam’s grim, sarcastic smile, Ronan knew that he didn’t believe him.</p><p>He dug out a package of cough drops he snagged off the counter from his hoodie pocket and stuck it towards Adam.</p><p>“Here,” Ronan said, “for your throat. Or to get the taste out. You’re not supposed to brush right after you hurl.”</p><p>Adam accepted the bag slowly. “And you know this, why?”</p><p>“‘Cause I drink, but I still care about my teeth. Obviously.”</p><p>There it was again: a second of amusement flickered across Adam’s face. He carefully tore open the lozenge bag and unwrapped one, one hand still holding his water. Ronan watched with rapt interest. Adam brought the candy to his mouth and Ronan’s gaze lingered on his lips -- chapped.</p><p>Ronan dropped his eyes to his own hands. He pushed the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows, just to do something. Adam only sat up and edged toward the toilet once, but other than that, he seemed to have lost any further need to vomit. He didn’t make any movement to leave, though, so neither did Ronan.</p><p>Adam addressed it after a long silence.</p><p>“You don’t have to stay,” he said. “I’m alright.”</p><p>“Unless you want me to go, I’m staying.” Ronan responded, not missing a beat.</p><p>Adam slowly tipped his head, looking almost a bit dazed. “Why?”</p><p>All over again with wondering why. Ronan frowned. “Do you always need to know <em> why?” </em></p><p>“It just helps,” Adam mumbled around his cough drop. He had closed his eyes again at some point. “It helps if I know what someone wants from me.”</p><p>Suddenly and sharply, Ronan’s chest ached. He didn’t want anything from Adam except for the chance to be there for him, so the idea that Adam expected a catch… Ronan figured that that was what he learned growing up. If his dad wasn’t as big of a dickweed as usual, it was probably because he wanted something he couldn’t just take. Fucking Parrish. Ronan almost regretted not laying him on his ass at the grocery store.</p><p>Ronan shook his head. “I don’t want shit from you. I don’t want -- stuff, or money, or what-fucking-ever it is you think I’m waiting to cash in on. I never did.” A pause. “And Gansey isn’t like that either. I think we’ve proved that by now.”</p><p>“I’ve only known you two for two months and -- what, three weeks?”</p><p>“Are you actually counting?”</p><p>Adam shrugged. It felt like a yes.</p><p>“Well,” Ronan started again. How many times have they had this conversation? At least three, just that day. Once when Adam woke up, once when he got back from the grocery store, once before Adam needed to retch up his lunch. Every time they started to really talk, though, something cut them off. But Ronan knew that Adam was a good listener, so he settled for something simpler than a repetition of the things he’s already said: “You know how I feel.”</p><p>Adam, however, decided to be insufferable. He peered at him.</p><p>“Yeah? And how do you feel, exactly?”</p><p>Ronan was briefly taken aback by the implication before he realized that he’d set himself up for it. “I feel like you’re being a shithead, shithead.”</p><p>Adam’s breath came out like a weak laugh before he sipped at his water again. “Well, <em> I </em>feel--”</p><p>“Pukey?”</p><p>“No, not anymore. Interrupting is rude, Lynch.”</p><p>“Interrupting is rude,” Ronan mocked.</p><p>“That was rude, too.”</p><p>“That was--”</p><p>“<em> I </em> feel like,” Adam pressed, “we end up in bathrooms a lot.”</p><p>Ronan pursed his lips. Adam was right, of course: three other times, they tangled up with one another in bathrooms. The first time was at his apartment with Gansey after Halloween. The second time was downstairs, when Ronan punched a mirror out. The third time was in the very same one they were in -- Adam had just gotten back from the hospital.</p><p>Two months and three weeks. Four moments in a bathroom. Four times Ronan Lynch wanted to kiss Adam Parrish, and four times he didn’t. He wished that it were as easy as leaning over and catching his cheek, but because it wasn’t, he settled for tension-dissolving crudeness.</p><p>“Not my fault you wanna catch me in the middle of pissing so bad.”</p><p>Adam pitched an indignant cough drop at his chest and Ronan couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. “God. Don’t be sick, man.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah, said the sick man,” Ronan said, starting to grin something intolerable. “Also, don’t take his name in vain. Goddamn.”</p><p>Adam rolled his eyes. Another silence settled between them, but it was… More comfortable than the others. Ronan twirled the cough drop between his fingers. Adam drank his water. Ronan thought about holding his hand.</p><p>Soon, with an obvious amount of great effort, Adam slowly pushed himself to his feet.</p><p>“I think I’d like a shower,” he said. He looked momentarily stressed, though his expression eased after just a moment. “Would you mind bringing up a towel? And the clothes you bought. If that’s -- if that’s not too much.”</p><p>Ronan cracked a smile as he got up, too. He almost couldn’t believe that Adam was actually asking him for something.</p><p>“It isn’t,” he assured him, already turning to leave. He didn’t think anything Adam asked of him could ever be too much.</p><p>“Ronan?”</p><p>Ronan stopped and stood sideways in the doorway to look back at him. He noted the way Adam’s shoulders dropped as he exhaled.</p><p>“Thank you,” Adam said.</p><p>Ronan just flipped him off, and Adam chuckled in a way that put church choirs and symphonies to shame.</p><hr/><p>It was a damn good thing that Adam already had an empty stomach, because asking Ronan to do something he was perfectly (mostly) capable of doing himself would have made him lose anything else in his system. It was just difficult to wrap his head around the idea of someone <em> wanting </em>to do something for him. Around the idea of him not being more than an inconvenience, a burden, an extra mouth, a bother, a mistake.</p><p>Everything Ronan did assured him that he was the opposite, but Adam was just too on guard to believe him.</p><p>But he could, one day. Maybe soon. Maybe gradually.</p><p>He wanted to, at least.</p><p>When he thought about Ronan’s eyes, and every gentle sentiment they held that his mouth was too sharp for, he wanted to believe him even more.</p><p>Ronan stepped out of the bathroom and Adam took his absence as an opportunity to compose himself. He finished his water and one cough drop, then moved on to the tea Ronan made him. Adam stared at his reflection from over the lip of the mug. His hair was, admittedly, a disheveled mess, and his shirt was definitely on the rumpled side. Did he look that way when Gansey came over? And what did Ronan make of his appearance?</p><p>And -- God, why did he care <em> so much? </em></p><p>Adam still tasted bile on his teeth, but in accordance with Ronan’s advice, he opted not to pick up his toothbrush. He wished he at least had his phone because Blue would have probably been able to talk some sense into him about -- everything. About Ronan. About--</p><p>Jesus, there was a flick of vomit on the collar of his shirt. </p><p>(Noticing it had been the start of a downward spiral.)</p><p>He was that much of a <em>nightmare</em>, and Ronan was still being nice to him -- Adam just didn’t deserve it. He didn’t know what he did to trick Ronan into thinking that he did, exactly, but a monstrously insistent part of his brain dubbed it pity. Because it was always pity.</p><p>Ronan knew how Adam’s father treated him, and he felt bad. That’s what it was.</p><p>A little woozy, Adam slowly set down the mug of tea and went ahead with peeling the garment off. He pulled it over his head and folded it so that the stain was on the inside. It just so happened, though, that the moment he stripped his shirt was the same moment that--</p><p>The bathroom door creaked open as Ronan reappeared in the doorway, a towel and a stack of clothes in hand.</p><p>This had happened once before, the last time they were in a bathroom together, but in the opposite way. Adam got back from the hospital after Blue and Gansey picked him up, and when he found Ronan in the restroom, he was shirtless and scraped up the way Adam always was after Robert Parrish raised his fists. That had been the night that he lost hearing in one of his ears, the night Ronan came to his rescue, the night the walls he painstakingly built began to crumble.</p><p>Or maybe they started weathering away long before that?</p><p>Either way, the resurfaced memory made him dizzy; made his ear start to ring again. </p><p>Adam was looking at Ronan, but his eyes were out of focus and he was too out-of-body to feel self-conscious about having discarded his shirt. Adam kept himself from swaying by steadying himself with a hand on the counter. He rubbed a hand down his face. His court hearing was in five days, just <em>five</em>. In five days, he'd have to face his father again, for the first time since the day after Thanksgiving. In five days, he'd have to be ready with his side of the story -- he'd have to tell someone everything. It would be the most vulnerable he'd ever be. But would they believe him?<br/><br/>What if they didn't?</p><p>What would happen after?</p><p>What would his father do?<br/><br/>Adam sank down, towards the basin of the sink, in case the nausea rolled back. He needed to not be fucking <em>sick</em> with his own <em>stress.</em> He needed to get it together, he needed the shrieking pitch in his head to stop, he needed--</p><p>“Jesus, Adam,” Ronan murmured. It was shockingly grounding, when he actually managed to tune back in. “Hey. Adam. Adam,” he was saying, again and again. Like there was an echo.</p><p>Adam faltered.</p><p>A strong arm looped around his middle, and being beyond his judgement, he leaned into it.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>&lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 hey folks!!! i know i've been pretty spotty with updates, but my finals season is comin' up and it might be rough for a bit longer. nonetheless, thank u for reading and i hope everyone is doing well!! big big big love!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0048"><h2>48. why do i stay? (iv)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>adam and ronan at the barns (cont)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ronan didn’t know what kind of illness Adam came down with, but with how he’d gotten worse throughout the day, he didn’t think that fainting was necessarily out of the question. On top of that? The way Adam was hunched over the sink made it clear that something was wrong. So, when Ronan noticed the way Adam faltered, he instinctively stuck out an arm to support him--</p><p>Except Adam leaned into Ronan instead of righting himself on his own, and something in the world shifted. </p><p>And time slowed down --</p><p>And his heart sped up -- </p><p>And his brain turned off --</p><p>And -- </p><p>Jesus. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus<em> fucking </em>shit Christ <em>God </em>Almighty above.</p><p>Hugging Adam Parrish was the most dangerous “fuck it” moment that Ronan Lynch had ever experienced.</p><p>Ronan’s usual impulsivity was something that he generally tried to keep under his thumb when it came to Adam. Too often, there’d been moments where Ronan couldn’t imagine wanting anything more than to card a hand through Adam’s hair or touch his lips to Adam’s fingers. Ronan could blow through a red light or drink a six on his own, easy -- but when it came to Adam? Shit. Fuck. Ronan could only ever avert his eyes and chew on his bracelets and remind himself that the last thing he needed was to royally screw up a friendship that was only just starting with his fucking crush.</p><p>(Sargent would shit herself if she knew Ronan thought of Adam as his <em> crush</em>.)</p><p>Over the past few weeks, he’d gotten good at curbing the ways he wanted to reassuringly squeeze Adam’s hand and how he wanted to coast his thumb over Adam’s freckles. Ronan had spent a month and some change noticing Adam, then over the course of another month, he started <em> seeing </em>Adam. Every day that passed gave him even more to learn; every day that passed was another test of his resolve to move slowly and at Adam’s pace, the way Blue insisted. </p><p>This time, though -- this time, Ronan fucked up.</p><p>He fucking <em> hugged </em> Adam. </p><p>He hugged <em> Adam</em>. </p><p>Adam! Adam, who was always so careful about keeping a few feet of distance from everyone, who always crossed his ankles when he sat on shared couches so he didn’t take up too much space. Adam, who probably had a completely valid <em> thing </em>about being touched, given the way he’d been...</p><p>Christ. </p><p>Even worse than Ronan’s realization that he’d stomped all over the boundaries Adam had been careful to maintain was the fact that he didn’t want to let go. </p><p>He probably should have, but he didn’t.</p><p>Ronan’s throat was dry. He wanted to say something -- something, anything to make it better. He considered apologizing, but instead of “I’m sorry,” the words “I’m here” sat on the tip of his tongue, right at the seam of his mouth. A promise ready to be murmured. Somehow, though, he knew that even the softest words were too sharp for how delicate the moment was.</p><p>Adam took a deep breath. Shaky as it was, it was full, which was a good sign. Adam slowly exhaled and it ghosted the shell of Ronan’s ear and he almost shivered but then--</p><p>But then Adam lowered his forehead onto Ronan’s shoulder.</p>
<hr/><p>Adam didn’t know when the last time he hugged somebody was. Not in the way he and Blue did quick single-armed side hugs whenever they said goodbye, but like -- like full hugs. He couldn’t remember his last real, full hug. He was pretty sure that it was still Blue, even though most of their hugs were partial? It certainly wasn’t his mother, but his brain -- god, his brain. He just--</p><p>His last hug didn’t seem to matter when he realized that he was getting one from Ronan. </p><p>Ronan, with his arms wound around him. Ronan, a few inches taller than him, with his cheek brushing against his. Ronan, who smelled like the lemon cleaner he used around the farmhouse; Ronan, who had a body temperature far warmer than his cold attitude; Ronan, who was--</p><p>Who was there for him.</p><p>Who, time and time again throughout the past two months and three weeks, had been there for him. Sometimes quietly, sometimes aggressively, sometimes both -- but always Ronan.</p><p>The nightmare slurring hate and panic between his temples slowly began to quiet in time with Ronan’s breath. One echoing “R” name was replaced by another. </p><p>(Adam wondered what would happen if he asked Ronan to go to his hearing.)</p><p>(Adam wondered if he’d say yes.)</p><p>(Adam wondered if he could even bring himself to ask.)</p><p>...Despite himself -- or, perhaps, despite his father? -- Adam dropped his forehead onto Ronan’s shoulder and closed his eyes. He didn’t hug him back, but he slumped forward and curled his fingers into Ronan’s sweater, right at his waist. It wasn’t much--</p>
<hr/><p>But for Ronan, it was enough.</p><p>He held Adam a little closer.</p>
<hr/><p>Ronan didn’t look him in the eye when he eventually stepped back, but it didn’t bother Adam. There was nothing that needed to be said, and somehow, Adam knew that they both knew that. Ronan silently slipped out of the bathroom, Adam silently turned to start the shower. Ronan silently closed the door behind him, Adam silently rubbed his hands down his face.</p><p>Adam didn’t surprise himself when he found himself wishing that the moment lasted longer. He was thinking about Ronan’s arms circled around his shoulders, about the talon of ink spilling out from the back of Ronan’s hoodie right under Adam’s nose. About the steady certainty of Ronan’s chest as he breathed. About how, for once, Adam had almost felt peaceful when he closed his eyes. </p><p>If he were religious like Ronan, he’d have probably likened his shower to something of a baptism. Since he wasn’t, it was just a good shower. </p><p>Adam emerged from the bathroom with warmth still clinging to his cheeks and a Coca-Cola shirt (of all things!) clinging to his shoulders, where water had dripped down from his hair. He stepped into the hall feeling lighter, but not nearly as lightheaded… Even though Ronan hadn’t left his mind for a second since he stopped hugging him.</p><p>Adam considered just sequestering himself back in the guest room, but something -- someone, really -- drew him in the opposite direction. Hands shoved into the pockets of the sweatpants Ronan bought him, Adam carefully padded down the stairs. It was already dark out, but in the winter, the sky at five in the evening didn’t look any different from the sky at twelve in the morning. </p><p>He found Ronan and Chainsaw in the kitchen. Chainsaw was shredding paper towel and Ronan was standing watch over a pot on the stove. He had the dim realization that, if not for the fact that Ronan <em> hugged </em> him, he wouldn’t have felt comfortable showing his face so soon -- not after the way he audibly hurled, only so long ago.</p><p>(What was Ronan thinking? Adam couldn’t tell, but he’d yet to notice that Adam walked into the kitchen.)</p><p>Adam swallowed the scratch in his throat and took up a safe distance away from Ronan. He still stood along the stretch of the kitchen counter, though. He just couldn’t help but wonder: where had his nerve gone? With all of the space between them, Adam couldn’t figure out how he’d once been bold enough to touch Ronan’s face. The evening after Ronan visited the mechanic for the first time, he not only showed up unannounced at Ronan and Gansey’s apartment, but he pressed his hand to Ronan’s busted-up cheek. He pressed his thumb dangerously closed to Ronan’s mouth, even, and Ronan closed his eyes, and in hindsight, the moment was the closest he’d felt to God--</p><p>...But then again, the moment also ended with Adam abruptly excusing himself without anything more than an ‘I should go.’</p><p>Right. Adam had bailed. He’d done that a few times now.</p><p>Not that time, though. Not again.</p><p>“Sort of surprised that this kitchen is still standing.” Adam said, trying for easy ribbing. He wanted to wince right after, though, both because of what he sounded like (sick) and what he said (potentially in bad taste). But of course Ronan still responded.</p><p>“If you want hopeless in a kitchen, that’s Gansey,” he riffed, not missing a beat. “The man spent high school thinking water would fucking explode if you microwaved it.”</p><p>And of course Ronan made the conversation easier. Adam huffed, quiet and breathy. It was barely a laugh, but for him, it was still a laugh. He kept watching Chainsaw so that he didn’t have to look at Ronan. “That’s not exactly surprising.”</p><p>“What, and this is?” Ronan challenged, and from his peripherals, Adam could tell that he’d gestured to the pot he was stirring.</p><p>“I mean, yeah,” Adam shrugged, sniffling. Despite his initial hesitance, he dared to raise his eyes towards Ronan’s. “You didn’t exactly strike me as the domestic type at first.”</p><p>“‘At first,’” he echoed, wearing somewhat of a sneer -- one that made Adam almost crack a smirk. “What are you trying to say, Parrish?”</p><p>“I don’t think I can explain.”</p><p>“Bullshit.”</p><p>“Well,” Adam said, drawing in a great breath. He leaned against the counter because his head still felt heavy on one side, but he was careful not to touch anything. “I guess, just -- you babysit my Latin professor’s daughter, you raised a bird from infancy, you keep an EpiPen in your glove compartment for Gansey--”</p><p>Ronan snapped his gaze at him, eyes like forged steel. “When the fuck were you going through the glove compartment?”</p><p>Huh.</p><p>Adam wet his lips. </p><p>Ronan’s eyes flickered down. Or maybe Adam just imagined that they did because he wanted them to.</p><p>“I didn’t,” Adam responded. “It was just an inference, but it sounds like I was right.”</p><p>Ronan narrowed his eyes. “What are you trying to say, Adam?” He asked again, echoing his earlier question. The way he said ‘Adam’ instead of ‘Parrish’ that time didn’t go unnoticed.</p><p>Adam palmed the side of his neck and looked towards Chainsaw again.</p><p>“We should watch a movie tonight,” Adam said, “or -- something.”</p>
<hr/><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> lynch </em>
</p><p>
  <em> lynch </em>
</p><p>
  <em> lynch </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ronan </em>
</p><p>
  <em> lynch </em>
</p><p>
  <em> you’re an annoying one….. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> mr grynch </em>
</p><p>
  <em> HA </em>
</p><p>
  <em> get it, like grinch? but lynch </em>
</p><p>
  <em> haw haw haw. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> respond. </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> no </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> cool hey so helen invited me to spend christmas with the ganseys </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> LMFAO </em>
</p><p>
  <em> fucking yikes </em>
</p><p>
  <em> say youre gonna go please say youre gonna fucking go </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> your reaction isn’t very reassuring. </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> you came to me for reassurance? thats your first goddamn problem kid </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> dude </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i hate to break it to you but like </em>
</p><p>
  <em> you’re kind of my friend, man. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i know i know </em>
</p><p>
  <em> a shock to me too </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> i will drive into town right now just to break your window </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> no u won’t because that would involve leaving adam alone </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> fuck you what do you want </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> just </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ugh. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> is there anything i should know </em>
</p><p>
  <em> if i say yes to coming over </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> you should know that youre fucking in for a time is what you should know </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> you’re very unhelpful, did you know that? </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> you came to me for help? thats your second goddamn problem kid </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> fine!!! whatever, screw you, you suck, etc </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> thats latin for and so forth </em>
</p><p>
  <em> did you know that </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> hey so like </em>
</p><p>
  <em> you’re texting back really fast </em>
</p><p>
  <em> is adam ok? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> are YOU? </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> i dont know what you mean??? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> were fine </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> you just seem a little </em>
</p><p>
  <em> hm. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> frazzled? frazzled. </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> bye </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> that’s sus as fuck. did you guys kiss or something </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> i said BYE </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> HOLY SHIT  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> DID YOU? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> oh my god you didn’t </em>
</p><p>
  <em> did you? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> DID YOU??? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> wait a second isn’t he sick </em>
</p><p>
  <em> did you kiss him even though he’s sick </em>
</p><p>
  <em> that’s both gross and sweet </em>
</p><p>
  <em> RONAN </em>
</p><p>
  <em> jackass </em>
</p><p>
  <em> dude </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> are you done </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> yes. </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> no </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> damn. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> loser lmao </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> thanks </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>&lt;3</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> put that shit away </em>
</p><p>
  <em> they like to ask about family and school. standard bs. you’ll be fine but if you go full apeshit i want details </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> huh? </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> xmas w the gansey. what do you mean HuH </em>
</p><p>
  <em> faceass </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> oh! oh. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> well. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> easy enough </em>
</p><p>
  <em> thanks </em>
</p><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> you gonna leave me alone now or what </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>[ Ronan ]</p><p>
  <em> what the fuck  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> you left ME on read? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> sargent you asshole </em>
</p><p>
  <em> i almost respect it </em>
</p><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> pshaw </em>
</p><p>
  <em> WAIT SHIT </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>[ Blue ]</p><p>
  <em> damn it. </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>Even if they did kiss, he wouldn’t have told Blue -- but, since they didn’t, there really was nothing to say. Plus, the same way he wouldn't mention the hug to Blue, he didn't mention the hug to Adam.</p><p>It was fine. Things were fine.</p><p>The two of them sat in the living room. Three, counting Chainsaw. They were on opposite ends of the same couch, but given the way Adam had the choice of two other armchairs and the other sofa, Ronan would dare to say that they were sitting close to each other.</p><p>(He could have done with them being closer, of course.)</p><p>“You can pick,” Adam said, standing up and walking back into the kitchen. “I left my tea on the counter.”</p><p>“Your funeral,” was Ronan’s dry response, though he didn’t have a movie in mind. If he wanted something to do with a fast car, he’d drive the BMW, not just watch one on a screen. Watching shit was easy with Gansey because there was always some historical documentary or another on his list. If he asked Blue what kind of shit Adam liked, she’d just say to ask Adam himself. And Noah would probably have a bunch of incorrigibly cliche Christmas movies in mind.</p><p>Ronan huffed his exhale as he pushed himself off of the couch to look at the DVDs lining a shelf adjacent to the television set. A collection of VHS tapes took up the bottom rows, while stacks of disk cases were arranged above them. Picture frames and knick knacks, gifted to his mother from his father, were posed on the upper shelves.</p><p>He stared at them, then crouched to look at the movies.</p><p>Each title, he could remember watching at least once, either with Matthew or with his father or his mother or whole family. His childhood was probably the last time he actually watched something from a DVD -- back at his apartment with Gansey, they had an unnecessary amount of streaming services hooked up to their TV. As Ronan ran a thumb over the slightly-dusty spines of the cases, he knew which titles Gansey would submit for consideration, but Adam was a bit harder to figure out.</p><p>...In the end, he settled for the last thing he watched -- well, rewatched -- with his father. Because he was fucked up, or something. He didn’t know.</p><p>(He thought it would be easier to sit through with Adam.)</p><p>The DVD was put into the player and the case was tossed onto the coffee table for Adam’s sake. It didn’t take him long to return from the kitchen, tea in hand. On his way back to the couch, he killed the overhead lights, so Ronan silently turned on the smaller lamp in the corner of the room. The room was filled with a soft, warm yellow. Ronan took the liberty of grabbing a blanket out of a wicker basket behind the couch, too -- he unceremoniously flung it at Adam, who had (thankfully) put down his mug and was reading the DVD case instead.</p><p>The blanket hit the side of his head.</p><p>Ronan cracked a smile at Adam’s unamused <em> ‘Really?’ </em> expression.</p><p>“Thanks for the heads up,” he drawled.</p><p>“Heads up.”</p><p>Adam just shook his head as Ronan rejoined him on the couch. He couldn’t help but notice: they were closer now. Adam hadn’t returned to the very end of the sofa, and neither had Ronan. The two of them sat just within arm’s length of each other and -- Jesus. Ronan got himself to stop thinking about it by fucking around with the remote. Input settings, and shit. He had to work to remember how the old TV set worked.</p><p>“I’ve never seen it,” Adam said, setting the case back onto the coffee table. It made Ronan look over. The Cannonball Run was one of the first movies he watched with Niall Lynch.</p><p>“No shit? Seems like you would’ve.”</p><p>Adam shrugged. “Never had the time. Or the DVD player. I know what it is, though -- the Cannonball Baker. Or -- Run. I read about it.”</p><p>Ronan finally got the input right and the screen went from static to the movie. As the production studio openings rolled through, he tipped his head at Adam. “I made Gansey watch it after we graduated. He wanted to fuckin’ try going cross-country with the Pig.”</p><p>“Like, <em> actually </em> try it? New York to California in less than 40 hours?”</p><p>“Of course not. He’d want to stop and smell the wheezing engine. ‘Sides, neither of the ‘72 Camaros that ran it even finished, so his definitely wouldn’t.”</p><p>“Huh.” Adam arranged his blanket over himself. He was sitting with his legs crossed, and he looked -- comfortable? Comfortable. </p><p>The Coca-Cola shirt was a good pick, in Ronan’s opinion.</p><p>“It’s a nice thought though, isn’t it?” Adam continued, reaching for his tea before settling back against the sofa. “To just start driving. Stopping when you feel like it, or not stopping at all.”</p><p>Ronan pursed his lips. Yeah, it was -- and he’d thought about it, too. When he stole Niall’s car after he was killed, Ronan genuinely considered driving and not looking back, but of course he didn’t. Of course he couldn’t.</p><p>He glanced at Adam. The glow of the table lamp restored some warmth to his cheeks, but Ronan could still make out heavier shadows under his eyes.</p><p>“If you weren’t sick as shit,” Ronan responded, “I’d just say fuck it.”</p><p>Adam took a long drink.</p><p>“Maybe,” he exhaled, “I’d say yes.”</p><p>His heart stalled. Knowing Adam’s work ethic, Ronan doubted that he would, but it was the ‘maybe’ that got him.</p><p>He’d happily take a ‘maybe,’ because in a way, ‘maybe’ could mean ‘maybe someday.’</p>
<hr/><p>Halfway through the third Cannonball Run movie, Adam Parrish fell asleep with his head on Ronan Lynch’s shoulder.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hi! hello! wow. oh my god. hi. i am so sorry for the radio silence, i am still in the middle of finals prep/finals week and i've been so busy!!! all of the writing i've been doing has been academic, though, so i really wanted to do something fun -- that said, please forgive me if this chapter wasn't up to par with the others :') nonetheless, thank you all so much for your patience and interest and support and encouragement!!!! you are all so wonderful and i hope everyone is having a safe holiday season! i love u guys no cap</p><p>(also, i am so sorry i haven't responded to comments for like the last two chapters -- please know i've read them all and they've made me smile so much + made me so excited to start writing more regularly. i will get back to you all as soon as i have the chance. &lt;3)</p><p>also u guys i wanted to share: i was in the top 0.005% (POINT ZERO ZERO FIVE PERCENT???) of listeners for honeywater this year and i fully attribute it to the fact that whenever i write this fic i have their music on repeat hehehe</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0049"><h2>49. a hundred and three, keep me lying in bed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>the lynches arrive at the barns and blue arrives at the ganseys' :-) merry christmas (eve)!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ronan knew he’d end up falling asleep on the couch, the same way he always did when he visited the Barns. Maybe it was stupid, but part of him was still averse to the memories tucked into the dark corners of his childhood room -- and on top of that, to sleep in his old bed would be to admit that he couldn’t stay in it. All things considered, he was just fine with crashing on the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just hadn’t anticipated falling asleep on it with Adam, was all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two and a half movies after they sat down, Adam’s head slumped onto Ronan’s shoulder. Ronan knew that he could have -- and maybe should have -- gently woken Adam to get him to trudge up to the guest room for a proper night of sleep, but then Ronan craned his neck as much as he could without jostling his shoulder. He caught sight of Adam’s eyelashes and the curve of his cupid’s bow, lit up by the yellow warmth of the table lamp in the corner and--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Ronan, in a moment of selfishness, resolved to wake him up when the movie ended. It was a solid compromise: he got to enjoy Adam’s closeness for just a bit longer, and Adam would still get to sleep in a bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That had been the plan, at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(The plan fell through in a little less than an hour, and the evening ended with Adam’s head resting on Ronan’s shoulder, and Ronan’s head leaning on Adam’s.)</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>good!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>morning!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>gang!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>and!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>merry!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>christmas!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>adam!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>eve!!!!!!!!!!!!!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>oh wha</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>heh heh</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>get it. adam. eve.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>hey hold the phone</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>listen i didnt read the book but why doesn’t anyone ever say eve and adam</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>jesus fuck sargent</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>the man was just trying to say merry christmas eve and you interrupted him</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>cold blooded killer</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>no no it’s cool it’s chill</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>she’s right as fuck and she should say it</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>yeah see? it’s a real question</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Henry ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A happy holiday to the group of you, as well!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Also, I’m with her</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Gansey ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>^</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah pardon, the caret is not meant for Henry’s second message</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>……..are you saying you’re NOT with her</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>ruh roh</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>LMFAO</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Gansey ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What??? What in the world are y</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh I see now</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh no I most certainly am</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No see I have little time to be on my phone and so I found it necessary to second a holiday greeting</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I apologize</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>gansey</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Gansey ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Truly I promise there was no ill intent</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>gansey</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Gansey]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My sincere apologies for any confusion</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>gansey.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Gansey ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes Jane</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>i’m kidding.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Gansey ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh thank Christ</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Merry Christmas Eve, my friends</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>not your friend</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>wait, we’re friends?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>HAHA jinx</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>you have to be part of the jinx to call jinx dude</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>shut up ronan it’s christmas eve and noah can do what he wants</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>???? you dont even CELEBRATE this holiday</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>who are you, the christmas police?? get off my case</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Henry ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>These two have the spirit, don’t they</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>gross no</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>fuck police</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Gansey ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fighting spirits, perhaps</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Christmas spirits, though?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>true. fuck police.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>a lil more so-so in the latter department</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>hey speaking of</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>where IS adam</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>asleep</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>on the couch</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>mouth breathing like a real sick motherfucker</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>oh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>….oh?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Gansey ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I wasn’t aware that he was spending the holiday with you and your brothers, Ronan</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Henry ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You were not privy to Lynch’s personal endeavors? Even I was in the loop</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>no you fuckin werent cheng</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Henry ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Correct. I was making an attempt at sarcasm, but it appears that it didn’t translate well over text</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A for effort my guy</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>ronan tell adam i said merry christmas eve and feel better soon when he wakes up ok</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>he’s just gonna read the texts when he fucking wakes up</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>promise you’ll tell him???</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>promise, ronan? :)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Gansey ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, how dearly I miss you all.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>oh just you goddamn wait</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>shhhhhhhut up</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>or else what maggot</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>wait</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>OH WORM?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>blue!!!! worm?!!!???</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>……..worm :/</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Gansey ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah. More…..worms.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Henry ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Worm indeed</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Gansey ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(???)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(For what reason are we worming)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>as soon as its not christmas anymore im telling you all to go fuck yourselves</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>jesus would be so proud of you</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>probably</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>well i wouldn’t actually know bc like i said, i didn’t read his book</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>anyway i have to go now i’m buying a tree with my mom’s boyfriend</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>NICE</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>send pictures n i’ll show you my family’s tree too &gt;:)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>u bet &lt;3</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Gansey ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jane, if I may be so bold to ask: how long have you had a boyfriend??</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Henry ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sir. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Richard</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>LOL…GANSEY</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>gans</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>holy fucking shit</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Gansey ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh no</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m assuming, by your reactions, a while</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And I’ve simply not realized til now</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>gansey. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>reread my text.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Gansey ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“oH”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>fucking yikes man</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>just stop texting now</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Gansey ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>On that note, all bests to you, gang</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My family beckons</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Henry ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Likewise, Richardman! Dare I say, take it sleazy</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>awful</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>peace b w/ u ganz </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Gansey ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And also with you, Noah!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>its fuckin “and with your spirit”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>not AnD aLsO WiTh YoU</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>goddamn</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>even i knew that it’s and also with you</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>that’s right. i saw the john mulaney skit</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Henry ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wait a moment. Lieutenant, you’re buying a tree?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Despite the fact that you</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t. Celebrate the holiday?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>listen henry </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>what other time of the year can i reasonably keep a tree of a significant size </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>INSIDE my house</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Henry ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hm.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fair point</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>maybe if you improved your attitude you could keep a tree inside year round</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>ever think about that</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>oh fuck off</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>gladly</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>hey have fun with your boyfriend tonight maggot</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>i jUST said that he’s my MOM’S boyfriend dude</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>yeah no shit i know </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>i wasnt talking about that</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>ooooooOOOOOOOOH</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Blue ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>i hate it here and i hate you</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>ronan</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>not noah</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Noah ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;3!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>[ Ronan ]</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>yeah yeah</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>merry christmas eve motherfuckers</span>
  </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Every other Christmas Eve of her life had been, more or less, completely uneventful. Some years Persephone had given Blue things, like a scarf she knitted into an unwieldy length. Some years Maura had made cookies, always butter-rich. Some years Calla almost smiled, sometimes not even sarcastically. As they were every year, their festive spirits were low, but not in a bad way. Never in a bad way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Truthfully, the extent of how 300 Fox Way celebrated Christmas was the way Blue had made a tradition out of buying a tree from a local tree farmer and lugging it into the Phone/Sewing/Cat Room. She would then eat, breathe, and sleep beside the tree until it turned brown, at which point she’d reluctantly heave it to the curb to make sure it got picked up by the county’s tree recycling program. She never decorated it, never put lights on it -- she just enjoyed its company for as long as she could, since laying under her beech tree was harder when it was winter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue explained all of this and more to Dean Allen after she convinced him to take her to the tree lot that Christmas Eve. The two of them would be swapping places, in a way, since Blue would be leaving for Washington in the afternoon and Dean would be spending the day with Maura and her family. Artemis sent a letter to her, actually, in which he explained that he made it to a mailbox but wouldn’t be coming around. Also within the envelope was a pressed flower. It was more than she needed, but it was appreciated all the same, and so she resolved to pen him when she got back from Gansey’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whenever that would be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to say,” Dean started, once they arrived at the tree lot. He tipped his head to look at the frail-looking trees left in the area before they ambled out of his car. No one else other than the vendor was present, bundled in blankets and sitting by a heater under a canopy. “There’s still some things I don’t understand here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? Like what?” Blue asked, glancing back at her mother’s boyfriend. It wasn’t going to be his first holiday in 300 Fox Way, but it would be his first Christmas, and it would be one without Blue. She was sure he’d be fine, though -- he didn’t seem to be much of a Christmas person, either. Blue knew that some fancy mixed drinks and warm pie would suffice them all just fine. Really, if anyone had to be concerned about how Christmas with another family would go, it’d have to be Blue, not Dean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that she was concerned about her evening. Christmas Eve with the family of the richest, and whitest, person she knew? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not concerned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not in the slightest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For one thing, I’d imagine that you, of all people, would be against nation-wide annual tree cutting,” Dean responded, giving her something else to think about. Blue felt that he was strange for wearing pressed slacks in the middle of winter, but since she was actively and voluntarily friends with someone who regularly wore </span>
  <em>
    <span>boat shoes,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she couldn’t judge anyone’s sartorial choices.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I used to be, but then I read up,” she said with a shrug. Blue tramped through the snow, fingers skating across pine and fir needles as she inspected the trees. Despite the bitter cold, she felt warm. Electric. This was the best part of late December: trees. “Christmas trees are sustainably farmed -- they’ve gotta be, ‘cause there’s an annual demand. Plus, while they grow, they’re carbon sinks. Buying local helps, properly disposing of them helps. Artificial trees just save people money, not the environment, when you factor in how they inevitably end up in landfills, the factory emissions that come with producing them, all of that stuff.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean made a noise of surprised approval. “So you wait until the last day to purchase a tree, because…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue rolled her eyes. “All of the fuller and bigger ones -- those don’t have any problems getting sold. These guys need a little more love,” she said, right as she stopped at a scraggly-looking tree. “Oh, white pine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can identify pine trees?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And spruce. And firs. And others.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Impressive,” Dean remarked, nodding as he followed her. He was a good fit for her mother, in Blue’s opinion -- he was a listener.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” she chirped. “Hey, what d’you think of this one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean tilted his head at it. “A bit of an underdog.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just like her, when she’d show up at the Ganseys’. How expensive would their dinner be? What clothes would she be expected to wear? She wished Ronan were going, and Noah and Adam and Henry. They’d make it so much easier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>...But of course, Blue was never much of a fan of easy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a sigh, she managed a smile. “I can work with an underdog.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>When Adam woke up, he wasn’t too surprised to find himself on the couch, but it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> strange that he was... Sitting upright?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Huh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced around the room. It was even stranger that, on the other couch, the pillows were in a perfect row.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other couch was the one that Ronan usually slept in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam scrubbed a hand down his face to try and clear the grogginess fogging his brain. He took stock of the living room: two blankets on one couch, three movie cases on the coffee table (even though he only remembered seeing two credit screens), a half-full mug of tea--</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>If everything else wasn’t confirmation enough, the tea was all the evidence he needed to remember that he’d fallen asleep with Ronan during the third movie. Adam never left his drinks unfinished. From the rare purchased coffee to the rare complimentary water of a restaurant, he never let himself waste a cent. So, with his tea still sitting on the coffee table… God. The thought of falling asleep next to Ronan (or, more likely, </span>
  <em>
    <span>on</span>
  </em>
  <span> him) made Adam’s cheeks burn. The nape of his neck burned too, actually -- and also his ears -- and his forehead -- and --</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suspiciously, Adam pressed the back of his hand to his cheek, then to his forehead. He checked his other cheek, too. His hand was cold, which made him a poor judge of temperature, but he still felt warm. Damn it -- he thought he’d be over it by now. Granted, it had only been two days, but still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tell Cheng you were practicing your vogue. He’ll piss himself and won’t shut up about Madonna for at least half an hour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...Oh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ronan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam looked up towards the kitchen passage to find Ronan approaching with a mug in hand. He wasn’t wearing the same clothes as the night before, which told Adam that he’d woken up some time ago. Ronan put the mug down on a coaster and slid it towards him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a little worse than voguing,” Adam responded. He stared at the ceramic cup for a moment -- at the tea bag at the bottom of it -- then murmured a ‘thank you’ as he picked it up. Ronan had already put himself through the trouble, so it would have been rude not to accept.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ronan scoffed. “What could be worse than voguing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A lot of things, actually. In this case, a potential fever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ronan clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Shit. Potential?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t tell if my hands are just cold, if I’m just warm, or if I do, in fact, have a fever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ronan was silent for a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can check for you, if you want me to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then it was Adam’s turn to be silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The idea of Ronan’s hand pressed to his cheek made his face feel even warmer. It reminded Adam of all their bathroom moments; it reminded Adam of all his accidental daydreams during slow shifts at the library. How close would Ronan get? Where would they look -- at each other? God. The idea of eye contact while Ronan touched the side of his face--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Adam said. “No, you should keep your distance just in case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh. Kinda late for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right. They fell asleep together, and Ronan woke up first. Adam palmed the side of his neck and kept staring into his tea, as if he could figure out what to do if he looked hard enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, don’t worry. Your brothers won’t even know I’m upstairs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The fuck are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam looked up to find that Ronan had knitted his brow and folded his arms -- the picture image of someone who didn’t get something. But what was there not to get? If </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>family had walked in on him asleep on Ronan’s shoulder, let alone hosting someone else, they’d--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They wouldn’t like it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So what would Ronan’s family think?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re coming today, aren’t they?” Adam frowned, idly rubbing the lip of his mug. “It’s Christmas Eve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(In spite of it all, he couldn’t help but wonder what his parents were up to.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah,” Ronan responded. He sat on the edge of an armchair. “But you’re not like -- some goddamn secret, or whatever. You’re allowed to be here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His pulse thrummed at the word ‘secret,’ but Adam’s expression remained dubious. “Oh, right. The same way </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>welcome here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re visiting, not residing.” Ronan waved a hand. “Forget that, though. You changed the subject.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, I don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do we have to do this now?” Adam rubbed the heel of his palm against one of his eyes. His head still felt heavy on one side. “The general malaise is making arguing with you difficult.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is an argument?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not arguing about whether or not we’re arguing, Lynch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a real question, Adam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pursed his lips. Adam said ‘Lynch’ and Ronan still said ‘Adam.’ It was probably nothing, but it was a nothing that felt like something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen,” Adam eventually said, “I just meant that I don’t want to get them sick, so I’ll be upstairs. But you have to admit, it’s weird that I’m still here. It’s even weirder that I’ll still be here when your family shows up for Christmas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam wasn’t supposed to be there. Adam was an intruder to the Barns, the same way he was a burden at the place he was supposed to call home. Maybe he’d fare better at Blue’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hardly, man. People have weirder Christmases.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Die Hard</span>
  </em>
  <span>-weird, or </span>
  <em>
    <span>Home Alone</span>
  </em>
  <span>-weird?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Weirder,” Ronan said, sounding confident. “Sarge is with the Ganseys today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam blinked. Blue, with Gansey’s family? He briefly wondered if the two of them had started dating without him noticing it -- but Adam figured that, knowing Blue and Gansey, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> would have noticed it. The two would do a shit job at keeping it a secret. “She’s going to eat them alive,” Adam ultimately remarked, only a bit surprised to find out. Ronan’s grin was savage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I can’t fucking wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam huffed something of a laugh, but he was uncertain as to where to go next. Things between them were beginning to feel like a stalemate. One of them pulled, then so did the other, one pulled again, the other finally caved and stepped forward. Then someone pushed the other all the way back, and the cycle started all over again. How many times would they do this? Seem to get close, suddenly come apart, repeat?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(When he remembered how easy it had been to sit and watch Cannonball Run movies with Ronan, a tiny voice in Adam’s head said ‘As many times as it takes’  -- and he didn’t silence it.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look,” Ronan started, “my brothers will show up in like, an hour or something. Don’t feel like you gotta hole yourself up in the guest room, though. Declan might keep some distance ‘cause he’s got a thing about getting sick, but Matthew’s not as stiff about shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s nice of you--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gag. Take it back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“--but that’s still the plan. Especially now that I’ve got a fever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ronan shrugged. “Your call, but I am making dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam stifled a smile, only before he could say anything--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, screw you. Don’t call me domestic again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I wasn’t gonna.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bull.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam tipped his head. “Got proof?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you?” Ronan parried, narrowing his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Proof of what, Ronan being domestic? Man, was it a weak retort on Ronan’s part. Adam snorted as he raised his mug of tea -- the one Ronan made for him, unprompted. He also tugged at the shoulder of his Coca-Cola shirt -- the one Ronan bought for him, unprompted. Ronan just flipped him off on his way out of the kitchen, and though Adam didn’t keep himself from smiling that time, it was up to the guest room for him.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Tiny moral dilemmas were still moral dilemmas, and ever since Blue started hanging around rich boys, they started to become a bit more common for her. It was a troubling thing on its own, but this -- this was probably one of her larger conundrums.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t love the idea of having to take a rideshare up to Washington, but she hated the idea of a helicopter ride with Gansey’s sister a little more. It felt cruel, though, to make some stranger drive her three hours north through the holiday traffic and the late-winter snow. She expressed this concern to Helen over text, but Helen dismissed it with a promise to “tip more than handsomely for the driver’s services.” And, knowing what that would mean from Gansey, Blue felt moderately absolved of her guilt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(She had the feeling that the only thing his family was liberal about were money matters. She also, however, wondered how many monthly charities she could get the Ganseys to sign up for.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The drive to Washington wasn’t as grueling as Blue anticipated, thankfully. Though she didn’t talk much to her driver, and though she didn’t really know the Christmas songs being played, she tried to internalize the spirit of them. Half-way to Washington, though, “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” started playing, which prompted Blue to wrinkle her nose and put on her headphones. A little riot grrl to cleanse her palette and amp her up for an evening of rubbing elbows with the obscenely rich.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she stared out her window, she imagined what would become of her night. She imagined all of the decorations from the party still up, and a dinner cooked by personal chefs, and Mrs. Gansey and Helen in glittering jewelry and Gansey and his father in suits and </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she didn’t even want to think about watching them open their presents to each other. Did they wrap their gifts in gold leaf? Crisp hundred dollar bills? Agreeing to come started to feel like a mistake -- but stubborn as she was, backing out hadn’t been an option to begin with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she showed up at the Ganseys’ estate, she moved on autopilot. She had an overnight bag over one shoulder, as Helen advised her to bring, and a basket sampling 300 Fox Way’s wares in hand: an assortment of homemade teas and candles and soaps, a selection of crystals, cookies from her mother. Blue didn’t like how Little Red Riding Hood her situation was. Instead of a cape, she was wearing a too-big red sweater over tights. Truthfully, she probably could have fit in with the wolves, if not for the random scraps of fabric stitched about her sweater dress, or for the rips in her leggings, or for the scuffs on her boots, or the clips in her hair. What a shame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Not, of course.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue steeled herself with a breath, tossed some hair out of her face, rang the doorbell--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then she surprised herself with just how happy she was to see Gansey again.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>When Declan and Matthew Lynch showed up at the Barns, Matthew hugged Ronan as soon as he was inside. Declan just gave Ronan an amicable nod before setting down a few bags. Ronan then helped get the tree from Declan’s Volvo, and three of them set it up in the living room -- the same way their parents used to. Matthew immediately insisted on decorating the tree instead of settling in, and since he’d already started playing Christmas music from a portable speaker, neither Ronan or Declan had the heart to disagree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With every ornament they hung up, the place started to feel a little more like home again. Ronan had felt that way when Matthew and Declan came over for Thanksgiving, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Presents were neatly arranged under the tree, courtesy of Declan. Stockings were pinned above the fireplace, courtesy of Matthew. Hot chocolate and store-bought Christmas cookies were set out on the coffee table, courtesy of Ronan. It was far from the kind of grand celebration their parents used to set up with them, but it was as close as the brothers Lynch had gotten in years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t you say you had a friend visiting?” Declan mentioned, once he’d stepped back from the tree. He didn’t look keen on drinking hot chocolate instead of plain tea or black coffee, but he took up a mug anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adam’s in the guest room,” Ronan said. It earned a frown from Matthew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not gonna come down?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s got a cold, we think. He doesn’t want either of you to catch it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lame. He should hang out anyway. I’m not afraid of a little cold,” Matthew pointed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not lame, that’s considerate of him,” Declan remarked. He pursed his lips. “And… And the two of you met through Gansey, you said?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ronan narrowed his eyes. “You really don’t have to try and make fuckin’ small talk, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, pardon me for trying to have a conversation with my brother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guys,” Matthew sighed. Declan sighed, too. Ronan rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(He did smile, though -- a fraction of a smile. Just like home.)</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>When Gansey’s mother asked him to get the door, he assumed it was because she was, understandably, caught up in what she was cooking -- not because Blue was the one who rang.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jane,” he greeted, too stunned to start grinning. “You’re -- in Washington?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m clearly in Henrietta, Gansey,” she drawled, rolling her eyes. “Nice sweater vest. You look like every other leading white male on a Christmas movie cover.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gansey looked down at himself. Dark green knit over a white dress shirt and khakis? She had a point. “I suppose I do,” he nodded. “Do you think I should have opted to wear a tie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue snorted. “Are you going to invite me inside, Gansey?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gansey’s heart skipped in his chest, despite her sarcastic goading. Inside? Invite her? As in she was staying? Good God. “You mean you’re--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s freezing out here, dude. Please just take the gift basket,” Blue insisted, holding the thing out to him. He scrambled forward to relieve her of the weight, then stepped back to hold the door open for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Terribly sorry, Jane,” Gansey said, grinning sheepishly. “I just had no idea that you’d be spending Christmas here--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course you didn’t. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> planned it, after all,” Helen interrupted from across the foyer. She looked all-too pleased with herself as she sauntered over to greet Blue with an extended hand. “A pleasure to finally meet, Blue. Thank you for making the trip. Really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue politely returned the sentiment and shook her hand, then Helen -- ever in event-directing mode -- made Blue and Gansey trade what they were carrying. Helen sent Gansey to put Blue’s things in a guest room, then whisked Blue away to the kitchen to meet their parents. Gansey wanted to protest, feeling as though he should buffer for that interaction, but Helen was already steering Blue down the hall. That left Gansey alone as he finished reeling from her arrival.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wondered what prompted his family to invite her. Had he talked about her </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>much? Since Helen had something to do with the whole thing, it almost felt like meddling, though Gansey was willing to overlook it. He had to remove a pesky sprig of mistletoe from a doorway on his way up to the guest rooms, but other than that, he had no trouble with the task Helen gave him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Upon returning down the stairs, warm relief glowed through his chest when he heard his parents laugh, presumably at something Blue said. His parents were nothing if not good hosts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gansey straightened his collar before stepping into the kitchen to join them. It was spacious -- marble counters and dark wooden cabinets, a massive kitchen island, grains and pastas and flours and everything else anyone could ever want from a dry pantry, organized in elegant containers on a ceiling-high shelf laid into the wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(He could only imagine what Blue thought of them. He hoped that, at the very least, she was pleased to find that they were cooking their own meal. They always did when it came to these smaller family ordeals, but Gansey wondered.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There he is,” his father beamed, once he walked in. “Blue volunteered to take up chopping vegetables in your stead, though I’m sure she could use your help with peeling them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Onward and upward,” he replied easily, crossing the kitchen to stand by Blue, who was stationed at the island. He reached to pick up the peeling gadget -- though Blue swiftly jostled him with her elbow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wash your hands, Dick,” she insisted, grinning. He was momentarily surprised -- but oh, of course she wasn’t going to call him ‘Gansey.’ Though he’d miss it for the evening, he understood how it could be confusing. Would the two of them get a chance to catch up, just them? He supposed that there wasn’t much to catch up on, but if he’d known that she was coming, he would have provided her with some… Warnings, of sorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gansey chuckled and left her side for the sink. “Of course, Jane.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jane,” his mother echoed. “Now how do you get from ‘Blue’ to ‘Jane’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Warnings about questions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue shook her head, albeit with a smile still on her face. “Would you like to do the honors, or should I?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>oh GOD this is loooong overdue -- i'm so sorry it took me a while to start writing again! after i finished my semester last week, i got caught up in holiday prep these past few days. alas, writing took the back burner, but i hope to be more on routine now :') i'm also shaking off the writing rust, so pardon anything that's a lil rough 'round the edges. also, i had much more of these interactions to write, but the chapter was already edging into 5k territory, so i figured i'd just pick up in the next one!</p><p>thank you guys for your love, support, kindness, time -- for everything. seriously. it's almost been six months now and i'm just so thankful for every single person that's given this story a chance. and for everyone who's stuck around, thank you for bearing with me through this ultra slow burn heehee</p><p>happy holidays to all of you. thank you. i hope you're all taking care of yourselves! &lt;3 so much love, i'll respond to comments as soon as i can. i love u bros!!!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0050"><h2>50. say goodbye to hating and cold feet and all of the lonely</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>christmas eve continued :-) (or, more specifically, pynch + bluesey flirting!!!)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Declan cleared his throat. He might as well have blasted police sirens in Ronan’s ears.</p><p>“So,” he started, “his name is Adam?”</p><p>Ronan restrained himself from dragging his hand down his face and just kept cutting the ends off of green beans -- albeit with a little more attitude. “We established that when you got here,” Ronan clipped back. “If you have a question, ask it.”</p><p>Declan pursed his lips.</p><p>“Are you seeing each other?”</p><p>Of course. <em> Of course </em>that was his next question. The real kicker, though, was the fact that Ronan desperately wished he could say ‘yes.’</p><p>“Oh, yeah,” Ronan drawled instead, “I see him all the goddamn time. Get this shit: there are these things called eyes -- you should know, ‘cause you’ve got two, but they--”</p><p>“You know what I meant, Ronan.”</p><p>“Yeah, I did. I just thought you’d appreciate that answer more than ‘Jesus fucking Christ, you jackass.’”</p><p>“It was an innocent question.”</p><p>“It was an ‘innocent question’ after you met Gansey, too. Why do you care?”</p><p>“Genuine curiosity,” Declan frowned. “Sue me.”</p><p>“Shit, I’ve thought about it, but that would mean needing to go to court.”</p><p>(Ronan was glad that Adam wasn’t in the room, because Adam actually <em> did </em> need to go to court soon. On the other hand, it was both good and bad that Matthew wasn’t in the kitchen either -- good because he wouldn’t hear him bicker with Declan; bad because they wouldn’t be bickering in the first place with him around. Probably. Were they even really bickering? Ronan hadn’t heard, or spat, much malice.)</p><p>“To be fair,” Declan continued, drawing Ronan out of his thoughts, “I’d kick your ass in court.”</p><p>“Bullshit. I’d kick yours.”</p><p>“You and what lawyer?”</p><p>“I’ve got two reps. Mr. Right Hook,” Ronan said, “and Mr. Left Cross.”</p><p>Declan snorted as he continued basting slices of bread with garlic butter. “You’d immediately perjure yourself with a sloppy left cross and we both know it.”</p><p>“Sloppy!” Ronan echoed, scandalized. “It’s like you’re fucking asking for a black eye.”</p><p>...Instead of retorting, Declan looked over at his brother. There was no fight in his eyes, no tension in his shoulders. Ronan knew that, if he kept staring, Declan’s somber attitude would infect him -- so he ripped his eyes away and scoffed.</p><p>“Don’t get sentimental, asshole, or I really <em> will </em> give you a shiner.”</p><p>“Why, because it’s easier to be at each other’s throats like this?”</p><p>“Yup.”</p><p>A moment passed. Ronan scraped the vegetable scrap off of the cutting board. If they still had chickens, he’d have saved the food waste for them.</p><p>“You know," Declan sniffed, "you’re a punk, even on Christmas Eve."</p><p>Ronan grinned.</p><p>“So I’m told.”</p><hr/><p>The knock at Adam’s door wasn’t like Ronan’s knock -- it was lighter, and for some reason, Adam could make that distinction. He didn’t know if he was proud or embarrassed about it. Nonetheless, it would have been rude to ignore the door, so despite his reluctance to abandon the warmth of his blankets, Adam rolled out of the guest bed. He’d been sleeping for a few hours by then, anyhow. As he gathered, it wasn’t Ronan knocking--</p><p>It was his brother.</p><p>His younger one, at that.</p><p>“Hey! You’re Adam,” he -- Matthew -- said brightly. The pictures in the farmhouse were by no means current, but Adam could recognize him pretty easily: he was the one with the blond curls and the shining eyes. He was something of an ironic antithesis to his first older brother, Adam felt.</p><p>“I’m assuming you’re Matthew,” he responded, realizing that he should have blown his nose before answering the door. Damn.</p><p>“How’d’ja know?” Matthew grinned.</p><p>Adam smiled faintly. “You don’t look much like a Declan.”</p><p>“No kidding, dude,” Matthew snorted, rocking on his heels with his hands in his pockets. “I can’t keep a straight face for very long, but Declan? Like a robot sometimes. Ronan too, if he were an angry robot.”</p><p>Adam couldn’t not chuckle at that, and it seemed like Matthew was glad for it, if his broadening grin was any indication. </p><p>“Oh, man, but anyway,” Matthew went on, looking sheepish, “I wanted to introduce myself, is all. And also say that Uno and Mario Kart are both games that are more fun with four people. Uh, question mark. Imagine I said that like a question.”</p><p>Adam managed a small, if not apologetic, smile. “That’s kind of you, but I’m still in the thick of this bug. I’d rather not pass anything along.”</p><p>“I guess maybe no Uno then,” Matthew nodded, “but you can still use a Switch controller from a buncha feet away -- if you end up feeling like it. Open invite, ‘cause we’re just downstairs.”</p><p>“If the weather permits, I’ll let you know.”</p><p>Matthew grinned, and in a way Adam had never seen anyone do in real life before, threw up a peace sign. “Cool, cool, cool,” he said, backing away from the door. “Nice meeting you, feel better soon, alla’that stuff.”</p><p>He was boyishly earnest, like Gansey, but in a far more youthful and open way, Adam noted as he closed the door. It was surprising that he was related to angry robot Ronan, but it also became less surprising that he was best friends with Gansey.</p><p>The ghost of his headache almost forgotten, Adam wondered what Declan was like.</p><hr/><p>“So, you’re a student at Warren, as well, Blue?” Mrs. Gansey asked, smiling her warm Politician Smile. Over the years, Gansey had learned his warm Politician’s Son Smile from observing her.</p><p>He silently offered to take over mashing boiled potatoes to give Blue a chance to answer properly, but with a wave of her hand, she shooed him away and resumed mashing. With the height of the counter, the size of the bowl, and Blue’s stature, Gansey would have thought that the task would have been more challenging for her -- but as always, she surprised him. If Ronan were around, he’d snidely offer her a step stool.</p><p>“I am,” Blue responded. “Junior transfer. Environmental Sciences. Special interest in conservation, sustainability, and--”</p><p>“Trees,” Helen supplied, one eyebrow and one corner of her mouth both raised. Blue looked perplexed, but only for a moment, since Helen continued with a damning “Dick told us.”</p><p>Oh, <em> Helen. </em></p><p>Blue glanced at him with a wry smile, and like she’d cast a spell, his ears turned pink. “Did he now?”</p><p>“He did,” Mr. Gansey provided. On the other side of the island, his father was tending to something on the extended range alongside Mrs. Gansey. “That’s a stand-up area of study, Miss Sargent. Conservation, a vital thing.”</p><p>(Blue nudged Gansey’s ankle with her foot. Without losing his balance, he managed to nudge her back. She hadn’t said a word, but Gansey still knew what her silent joke was about: the closeness of ‘conservation’ to ‘conservative.’ Despite his pedigree, he found it humorous, and very much worth the effort of stifling a smile.)</p><p>“I couldn’t agree more, but Blue is fine, Mr. Gansey.”</p><p>“Please, Richard works just as well,” he said, smiling his warm Politician’s Husband smile. “Mr. Gansey was my father.”</p><p>“Actually, he’s mine,” Gansey III quipped back to Gansey II. It was the kind of thing that would make Blue snort with contempt or roll her eyes, and he knew it. All the joke earned, though, was a quiet chuckle from his family and a particularly spirited smash of potatoes from Blue. She was holding back -- and though it was only by a touch, Gansey could still tell. He had the feeling that it was for his sake, and he didn’t know if it was heartwarming or upsetting.</p><p>(Mostly it was upsetting, because Gansey understood the compulsion all too well, but he never thought that Blue would succumb to it in the slightest. He found comfort in the tears in her tights and her mismatched socks and the choppy spikes of her hair, accentuated by her colorful assortment of clips.)</p><p>As his parents started discussing the soup on the stove, and as Helen began selecting a china set for the evening, Blue knocked her shoulder into his. They’d been doing that since she arrived: stealing touches, brushing fingers, discreetly bumping elbows. Each one sent his heart racing a little faster.</p><p>“Where's the bathroom?”<br/><br/>Helen was obviously listening, if the way she quickly answered Blue's question was any indication. "Dick can show you," she said.<br/><br/>Blue turned to him again. "The bathroom please, Dick."</p><p>Gansey dipped his head as he looked at her. Every time she'd called him 'Dick,' the corners of her mouth quirked up. “You’re enjoying this, aren't you?"</p><p>“Pshaw,” Blue said. “I’m just saving everyone the confusion.”</p><p>“Hm. I see.”</p><p>“Hmm,” she mimicked, having dropped the pitch of her voice, “I see.” Blue also squared her shoulders and adjusted her invisible tie -- and though it was a poor impression of him, it was an impression of him all the same.</p><p>Gansey laughed. A little more normalcy between them did him good.</p><p>“Right this way, Jane,” he said, bowing slightly and flourishing his hand. She snorted as she gently smacked it away from her -- ever Blue.</p><p>Ever herself.</p><hr/><p>As a general tradition, Matthew only really got hands-on in the kitchen when it came to dessert detail, while savory foods were more so on Ronan and Declan’s shoulders. That said, when Ronan left the kitchen to check on his brother-- </p><p>“Hey, Matthew, you--”</p><p>--Ronan was surprised to find Adam <em> also </em> in the living room, playing video games together. He seemed to be feeling better (or maybe just intently focused on the game on the TV), though he was sitting far from where Matthew was.</p><p>“Shh-shh-shh,” Matthew said, jumping to his feet, “We’re neck and neck--”</p><p>Ronan turned to the TV and watched as one of the characters went sailing past a finish line. The animation made Matthew plop back onto his spot on the couch -- and made Adam smile to himself -- so Ronan could only assume who won.</p><p>“Gah,” Matthew lamented, mourning the tragedy of his loss with slumped shoulders. </p><p>“Best two out of three?” Adam asked.</p><p>“I thought you said you’ve never played Mario Kart.” Matthew’s observation made Ronan knit his brow. It wasn’t hard to believe, but it wasn’t a happy thing to hear. He could imagine Adam’s answer already: too busy with school and work, no available consoles, that sort of thing.</p><p>“Shallow learning curve,” Adam suggested.</p><p>Matthew held his controller out to Ronan. “Well, you know, if you can beat me, you can totally beat Ronan.”</p><p>“I fucking doubt it, but Declan’s gonna get butthurt if I bail on dinner,” Ronan said, folding his arms to decline.</p><p>Matthew promptly turned to Adam.</p><p>“He’s scared of losing, isn’t he?”</p><p>Adam’s response was immediate, and his smile was now almost a grin. “Terrified, probably.”</p><p>“Maybe even intimidated.”</p><p>“Beside himself with the fear of second place, it seems.”</p><p>“I don’t know many more synonyms for scared so I’m going to say scared again. Scared.”</p><p>“Scared works,” Adam assured Matthew. For an only child, he was checking all the boxes for a good sibling.</p><p>Ronan scoffed nonetheless. “Seriously not working, but good shot.”</p><p>“Scared,” Matthew said through a cough. </p><p>Ronan rolled his eyes. “Hardly.”</p><p>But then?</p><p>Adam tipped his head. The gesture, small as it was, was all the convincing Ronan needed. There was a challenge in his eyes, a slyness to the curve of his mouth, an infuriating easiness to his posture--</p><p>“Wanna prove it, Lynch?”</p><p>
  <em> Well, shit.  </em>
</p><p>It took him a while to look away from Adam, but once he finally did, Ronan reached for another controller. Matthew whooped to celebrate as Ronan planted himself on the couch, midway between his brother and Adam.</p><p>“Preferred CC?” Matthew asked, navigating back to the home screen to restart the game with three players.</p><p>“One-fifty,” Ronan said, “naturally.”</p><p>“Oh, <em> naturally?” </em> Adam goaded, sounding smug.</p><p>“You don’t even know what CC means.”</p><p>“Cubic centimeters. I’m a mechanic, remember?”</p><p>“No shit, I mean in the game.”</p><p>“Vehicle speed. Like I said, shallow learning curve.”</p><p>“Gee, pretty <em> and </em> a smartass.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“Not a compliment.”</p><p>“You sure?”</p><p>Ronan glanced at Adam.</p><p>Oh.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>He called him--</p><p>Matthew piped up, effectively eliminating most of the tension left behind by Ronan’s remark with innocent eagerness. Thankfully. “So, you guys ready? Should I start the race?”</p><p>Adam sniffed. They glanced at each other again.</p><p>“Ready when you are, Ronan.”</p><p>Maybe he was still reeling from his slip-up, but it didn’t feel like Adam was talking about video games.</p><hr/><p>It was their first time being alone together since he opened the door to greet her, and though it should have been nothing special, Blue felt warm. How many times did their hands brush in the last forty five minutes alone? She supposed that the static electricity in her veins could also be attributed to how refreshing it was to talk to someone who didn’t need to ask her the basics about herself. Her family, her studies, her hobbies and interests -- Gansey had learned all of those things already.</p><p>“I can’t tell if this place feels bigger or smaller without all of the guests,” Blue remarked, glancing around.</p><p>“Bigger, I’d argue. I think.”</p><p>“Says you.” Blue walked in front of him and stretched her arms out on either side. “Guess what I'm thinking.”</p><p>Gansey laughed. “If you believe that I can guess what you’re thinking, Jane, then I’m afraid to disappoint you.”</p><p>Blue glanced over her shoulder and snorted. “Well, back at my house, my whole palms touch either side of the hallway,” she started, not even able to touch the tips of her fingers to the walls at her sides. “Also, if you asked for my bathroom, I’d say ‘take a left and it’s the door with the green door knob.’ You, on the other hand, actually have to walk me through the estate to show it to me.”</p><p>“I could have given you instructions,” Gansey said, sliding a finger over the glass of a framed photograph as they passed it. He inspected his fingertip for dust. “But I admit, I wanted the chance to talk to you alone.”</p><p>Blue slowed down enough to start walking beside him again, instead of in front of him. This -- <em> this </em> was why she was jittery. Because he said things like <em> that. </em> </p><p>“Somethin’ you have to gotta tell me, Dick?”</p><p>The two of them stopped almost at the same time. He leaned in, she bit the inside of her cheek, he glanced around, her cheeks warmed.</p><p>“I needed to say,” Gansey said, voice lowered, “that the floors are ideal for powersliding.”</p><p>Her laugh burst from her chest without preamble.</p><p>“Powersliding!” She echoed, grinning. “And you’re speaking from experience?”</p><p>“Guilty as charged,” he shrugged, smiling back.</p><p>“No amount of wax would ever get our wooden planks to be this slippery,” Blue hummed, experimentally shuffling her feet back and forth, making her socks slide over floor until--</p><p>“Oh!”</p><p>“Jane!”</p><p>In a moment, she lost her balance. </p><p>In a moment, her foot slid out from under her. </p><p>In a moment--</p><p>Blue shot her hand out towards Gansey and grabbed his arm so as to catch herself. More specifically, though?</p><p>So that <em> he </em> could catch <em> her</em>.</p><p>When the white marble and rich mahogany world around her finished whirling, Blue found herself gripping one of Gansey’s arms, while his other was… Almost looped around her waist, in the most awkward dip ever.</p><p>Blue was used to looking up at Gansey, given the difference in their heights, but looking up at him like this was a little different from usual. For one thing, he didn’t make much of a habit of gaping at her with wide eyes. As far as she knew, at least.</p><p>He blinked. She pressed her lips together. He looked like he was about to start grinning again.</p><p>“If you were wearing glasses,” Blue finally said, “I’d push them back up for you.”</p><p>Gansey cracked a smile that made her heart flutter. “I had no idea I made such a grave mistake by putting on my contacts today.”</p><p>His eyes flickered down.</p><p>Her eyes followed suit.</p><p>Then, though, Gansey cleared his throat, so Blue picked a piece of lint off of his dorky sweater vest; he shifted his arm, so she used his shoulder to help bring herself back to standing on her own two feet.</p><p>“The restroom is right through there,” Gansey said, using an open palm and glued fingers to gesture her in the right direction. “You’ll be able to find your way back?”</p><p>Blue rolled her eyes as she pushed open the door to peek behind it. “It’s your mansion, Gansey, not the Labyrinth of Crete. I think I’ll manage.”</p><p>“Jane?”</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>When Blue turned around, she tucked some hair behind her ear. All he did, though, was open his mouth, close it, open it again, then shake his head and smile.</p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>Blue leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom, regarded him for a moment, then shut the door to the restroom.</p><hr/><p>If she'd looked up, Blue would have seen something damning hung above the door -- and Gansey didn't know if he was glad or disappointed that she didn't notice.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>howdy pals!!! thanks so much for the kind words and support and patience. :') i really appreciate u guys. seriously! every time i hear from you my day is just Made. so sorry it's not even christmas anymore -- to be honest, i thought i'd end up writing these chapters waaay before the 25th, but it turns out that i'm late instead. oof. nonetheless, thank u for reading!!! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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